


Coffee = Medical Need

by Benedicthiddleston



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Brothers, Fear, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Literature Professor, McCoy is basically himself, Memory Loss, No pairings - Freeform, Quote, San Francisco, everyone kind of makes an appearance, prompt, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 51,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes we take the simplest things in life for granted. When Jim faces a life-threatening illness, he turns to his best friend, Bones, for support. Things won't be easy, won't be stable, and there will be tears. And maybe a few fights. But normalcy in the face of loss of control is key, and something Bones strives for when caring for his friend.</p><p>AU!Modern times, Friendship, and Angst. Mostly Jim & Bones, with a side of the rest of the Enterprise crew showing up as random characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this quote: “It is Inhumane, in my opinion, to force people who have a genuine medical need for coffee to wait in line behind people who apparently view it as some kind of recreational activity” – Dave Barry ([Source](http://1-million-words.livejournal.com/446628.html))

“Um. Hmm. Well, ya know, I haven’t had that one. Or that one. But I don’t like that kind of syrup. Too many hormones. It isn’t natural. But I kind of want my regular, ya know? I mean – okay, could you suggest something new for me? Because I don’t want my regular, especially with Christmas coming up, and I want something new. Bold, rich, with a hint of mint – peppermint to be exact.”

The barista gave the girl attempting to order a blink and then inwardly sighed. The line had grown by three people, making a total of eight people in line at that moment, since she had started rambling, still taking her _sweet_ time to order. He smiled and started offering up ideas to the girl, hoping she would make up her mind as soon as possible.

Right behind her stood two thoroughly _unimpressed_ males, both giving each other a look of annoyance and growing impatience. They had been in line for _at least_ ten minutes, and now the girl in front of them, who should have had _plenty_ of time to think of what she wanted to order while _in line_ , was taking forever.

“Bones, it is people like this that are going to make me late. Don’t they know that coffee really isn’t a recreational activity around here? It’s kind of a need. A basic need. And I really don’t feel like standing this long. You know I walk better then stand.”

“You won’t be late. We’ll get you there with five minutes to spare. Plus I know what you’ll order, so you can sit. I’ll catch this tab. I owe you anyway for last week.” His best friend gave him a reassuring smile. “Anyway, brilliant idea. There should be two lines – one for the people who need this healing elixir called coffee, and another for those who find this a fun time to fuck around.”

But all Jim could do was scowl. His back was killing him and he really didn’t want to be late. He was _never_ late. Every Friday he walked from his apartment to Leonard McCoy’s pent house three blocks away, took a five minute rest, and then they headed to Starbucks two blocks away, where they would stand in line for approximately three minutes before ordering a standard venti vanilla latte for Jim and a venti caramel macchiato for Bones. Then Jim would sit down until their drinks were called, and then walk the five blocks to the nearby Starfleet Medical Center, where Bones would promptly make himself at home with the nurses and nearby patients as they set up Jim’s chemotherapy treatment for that day (god willing his counts were up from the day before, which they usually were).

“You make it sound like the coffee is making me better, not the treatments.”

“Well, it sure gives you energy. And you haven’t had an aversion to the stuff, so that’s a plus. I’m not an oncologist, Jim, but I am a doctor who knows you should sit right about now. I don’t think she’s going to be hurrying up any time soon,” Bones nodded towards the girl still attempting to order in front of them.

Jim managed a smile before taking heed of his friend’s advice, and his own energy level and endurance, and went to find a chair to sit in.

Three minutes later, the girl in front of Bones finally ordered and paid. He stepped up to the barista, who looked a ton older in the past twenty minutes than ever before, and promptly ordered the two drinks. The barista smiled as he handed the change back to one of his more regular customers. “Tell him I’m rooting for him.”

“Always. Oh, and hey, just between you and I, there should be two lines. One for the people who need the coffee because it’s a fucking medical need, and one for the people who find this shit a fun recreational activity. Because holy fuck, she couldn’t have taken longer.”

The barista laughed. “I really agree! It might make things go faster around here!”

Bones laughed as he wandered over to where Jim was sitting and glanced at his watch. _Ten minute walk, five minutes to spare – we have two minutes until we have to leave_. “You okay?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the armrest beside his friend.

Jim’s face betrayed nothing as he nodded. “I’m fine.”

Which was code for: I feel like crap. Nothing new there.

They sat in silence, waiting for their coffee. In some ways, they really did need the coffee. But in other ways, it was more the routine. The idea that no matter how shitty life was, they would have their friendship, their coffee shop, their coffee, and something hopeful to look forward to. Because coffee joins people together. And in some cases, it’s a genuine _medicinal_ need.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because let's face it, one day I was going to write a Coffee Shop AU. Welp, today is that day. And then of course it turned into a multi-chapter fanfic. OOPS. 
> 
> Any comments and kudos would be a kindness. Thanks for stopping by!


	2. Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all really began with a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, PLOT BUNNY from my coffee shop AU prompt decided it wanted to be a full-fledged fanfic. It will be ANGST TO THE MAX. Apparently I am in that mood. 
> 
> And just to clarify - while I don't know if the rest of the lovely _Enterprise_ crew will show up in this AU (I shall try my best?!), I can safely say there is no homo. No shipping will occur. No love interests. Maybe mentions of sex talks and stuff - hormones being boys and all - but no pairs. Any love interest potential seen is at the risk and view of the reader. Thanks for understanding :D
> 
> Oh, and this is unbetaed. And I DON'T. OWN. ANYTHING!

“Ow.”

Dr. Leonard McCoy looked up from reading his book at the sound of his best friend’s voice. Said body from said voice had just whacked said head against the corner of the nearest kitchen cabinet in proximity to said body of one James T. Kirk. He watched at Jim vigorously rubbed at the spot where the corner of the cabinet had come in contact with Jim’s left temple.

“You are such a baby.”

“Okay, for your information, that cabinet came out of _nowhere_. And that hurt!” Jim pouted, sulking off into the bathroom to inspect the damage. For the most part, it hurt moderately, but left no lasting damage. No bruising or at least that was what Jim hoped. He had an image to uphold. He was an English Literature Professor at the nearby university, and was pretty well known.

He took a few Tylenol from Bones’s medicine cabinet, and promptly found his familiar spot back on the couch, papers strewn all over the place as he dived back into reading, annotating, and grading his students’ recent essays.

“Take Tylenol? Because that spot is going to hurt like a bitch for twenty-four hours,” Bones cheerfully commented, thumbing the corner of his book and turning to the next page.

Jim snorted. “Yes, Doctor, I did. Any other sound advice you’d like to give me before I make you go to bed?”

Bones rolled his eyes. So he had an early morning shift at the hospital the next morning. So it was already 11:03pm and his best friend was still camped out grading on his couch. He liked his routine. Four days of fourteen hour shifts, two days off, two days of sixteen hour shifts, one clinic day, and then five days off. And so what if he was about to start his four day rotation. He was fine. “You can get your fat ass off my couch and go home. It’s 11pm, and as you said, I need to go to bed.”

Their banter had been around for ages. They had met in high school and well, things had never been the same since. They had cheered each other through their respective majors in college, and then through graduate school. Bones had managed a well respected Emergency Medicine residency post-medical school at Starfleet Medical, and Jim was settling nicely into the routine of nine months of complete mayhem, and then three months of relaxation (for the most part).  

Jim stuck out his tongue, already half way into picking up his work and shoving it, gracefully, into his briefcase. “You can crash at my place Sunday night. I’ll have dinner for you.”

It had become a ritual of sorts. Because Bones worked Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday at the beginning of his set schedule, he always crashed Sunday night at Jim’s place, and Jim would cook right before the scramble for the new school week began. Bones would then be off Monday and Tuesday to supervise the hectic work schedule of his best friend, and things would round out to drinks that Friday after his set clinic day. They balanced each other in ways no one else could. And they had no problems with it.

“I count on it,” Bones yawned, winking as Jim rolled his eyes, shoving the last paper into his briefcase. “Text me when you get to your place. I won’t go to sleep until I know you’re home. If you aren’t home in-“

“If I don’t text you in thirty-five minutes, per our usual agreement, you will call the police. How long have we had this standing agreement?” Jim had stood up from the floor, eyebrows raised at his friend. Sometimes he had to wonder.

“Long enough! Now get out. I’m tired.”

Jim left Bones’ pent house laughing, even though his head was starting to ache.

* * *

Four days later, Bones got off shift from the hospital and basically ran, per usual routine, the six blocks to Jim’s apartment. It was refreshing to run – not only did it relieve the stress from his fourteen hour shift, but also it was good exercise. He tried to eat healthy, exercise often, sleep well, and drink moderately. Except on every other Friday when Jim needed a drunken escape and Bones was off for the next five days. Drunk was acceptable.

He reached Jim’s apartment in record time. Rolling his shoulders, in a relatively good mood, he took the stairs, humming a show tune to himself as he knocked three times on his best friend’s front door and let himself in. He would shower, eat, brush his teeth, and then make sure Jim went to bed before midnight. His first class was at nine am, and he needed at least seven hours of sleep to function until three pm when his last class let out. On bad days, he wouldn’t get home until six pm. On good days it was four pm, if his students weren’t breaking down his office door.

Jim didn’t even acknowledge his presence as he walked to the bathroom. It was a mutual agreement – Bones definitely could shower before making any attempt to start a half-conscious conversation as his friend was busy preparing for the week.  

Ten minutes later, Bones was out of the shower and settling into the nearby armchair, eating a pretty worthwhile dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. Jim could cook.

Bones watched curiously as his best friend read academic papers, Jim’s left hand mindlessly rubbing his temple. It was, for lack of a better term, a noted concern.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Jim paused in his work, looking up with a perplexed look. “Huh?”

“Are you feeling okay? You’re rubbing the spot on your head that hit my cabinet on Wednesday.” Bones knew it wasn’t a normal occurrence. Especially since Jim was extremely silent and still while he was concentrated on work, and the injury should have healed itself by now. It had been four days.

Jim shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a lingering headache. I took some Tylenol, I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve had that headache since you bumped your head, haven’t you? You’ve had a headache that hasn’t gone away in four days?!” Bones looked incredulous with this news. _Something is NOT right_.

“Wow, calm down, Bones. It’s fine. It’s just a headache. I get them sometimes, especially if I stare at my computer too long. It’s probably just a stupid combination of hitting your cabinet with my head and reading too much. It’s rough on everybody around midterms. Now can I finish grading these papers? I said I’d give them back tomorrow.”

Bones narrowed his eyes, grunting. “Fine. But you will tell me if it continues, right?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Bones.”

“I’m your doctor, Jim. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

“I will tell you if it doesn’t go away by tomorrow.”

Bones nodded in agreement. “Good.”


	3. The Little White Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim knows he needs to see someone about his headache. Just not Bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one thing that really makes me annoyed with Microsoft word is that simple medication names and medical words are like a FOREIGN language to it. Like, I AM USING ENGLISH. ATIVAN IS NOT A HARD WORD. Neither is hypotensive!
> 
> Oh, but wait. Firefox doesn't know what either of those words are either. Go. Figure.
> 
> Hmm. Anyway, just wanted to say that this is set in the 21st century/current timesish. Maybe a few years later than now, but yeah. 
> 
> Extra side note: when something is in [brackets], that means it is a text message. Because _italics_ are internal thoughts, except with the few places I used it for emphasis. Thanks! :)

The text that Jim received halfway through his Literature of the 20th Century class that Monday afternoon didn’t come on his radar until his last student had left, waving to him from his office door. He was sitting at his desk, his head aching from forgetting Tylenol at lunch.

[You’ll tell me if you’re still in pain, right?]

Jim groaned, sincerely hating the fact his best friend was a _doctor_ of all things. He didn’t even want to write back. He could say he never got the text (that happened once in a million texts), or he was ‘too tired’ from his classes (he always went for a run after getting home from work, ate dinner, and worked on perfecting his classes, and Bones knew it too), or that he forgot to answer (he gets on his phone frequently through-out the day, responding promptly every time).

But he wasn’t like that – lying and skirting the problem. He wouldn’t out-right lie to his best friend over something so _trivial_. But he didn’t need Bones worrying over this shit headache that wouldn’t go away.

[I actually feel great today. Just finished with my last student. Packing up my stuff. I’ll text you when I get back to my place so you know I’m safe.]

 _A little white lie didn’t hurt anyone_ , Jim mused to himself as he packed his briefcase and grabbed his car keys. His headache was turning into an oncoming nausea storm, but he would get home fine. _Maybe it’ll be gone tomorrow._    

* * *

Except it didn’t go away.

But Jim, being Jim, wasn’t one to admit it. Even after he threw up before classes the next day, even after forcing himself to take a nausea pill left over from his last hospital stay (his appendix had ruptured and he had a horrible time with the after-effects of the anesthesia), and even after feeling faint shortly before his last class of the day.

He had been walking, nursing a can of 7-Up, to his next classroom when he felt light headed. Noting the bench nearby and swearing to himself he was _not_ going to pass out, he sat down, gently putting down the 7-Up as he felt his nausea rise up with vengeance.

_I’m okay. Just a side effect of not eating all day. I’m okay._

But he knew the reassuring voice in his head was not convincing him at all that he was okay. He wasn’t. He just needed some sleep, and more pain medication. And apparently more zofran.

Thankfully, his last class of the day was English 102, and they were doing _nothing_ productive as midterms had passed and new content was still two days away. What really was there to teach a bunch of freshman writing twenty-five page papers about some aspect of their major that he couldn’t take a day off? He was allowed a sick day.

With a final check of the time, he quickly wrote up an email on his phone to all of his students. He then posted in their online forum, telling them to take it easy for the afternoon, catch up on reading their next chapter for Thursday, and continue writing the next draft, even if he hadn’t returned their midterm. He would have their papers back before the end of the week. He then stressed he wasn’t taking the day off because he was behind. He was _never_ behind.

The last thing he did was text his teacher’s assistant, Nyota Uhura, and told her to shoo anyone out of the lecture hall and take some time for herself. He didn’t need her at that moment. He would be fine; he just needed a sick day.

She texted back not even a minute later. [Thanks! I’ll make sure the herded freshman get some fresh air and leave your business alone. TTYL]

Somehow he knew he liked his TA.

Making mental note of how he felt, his nausea decreased but still present, his head still aching, but that light-headed feeling gone, Jim gingerly stood, deciding he was going home and getting sleep.

Halfway back to his car, he threw up again. And that was all it took for him to resign himself to the fact he needed medical attention. _But not the emergency room. Or Bones._

So Jim went to the next best place.

* * *

His vitals had been fine, he told himself. That was a good thing. Maybe a bit hypotensive, but the doctor quickly figured it was from dehydration – especially after Jim muttered he had been throwing up most of the day and not just recently. He also was continuing to have bouts of nausea.

She came into the tiniest exam room _on the planet_ with a pretty smile on her face, her bleach blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. She introduced herself as Dr. Emeline Harrison. She was gentle, and kind. Probably the opposite of what Bones would have done to him had he even let it slip that his headache hadn’t gone away.

“Your headache. How would you rate that? 0 being no pain, 10 being the worst pain you have ever had.”

Jim was lying on his right side on the highly uncomfortable exam table, his left hand gripping a pink plastic basin. He’d thrown up twice since he had arrived at the urgent care associated with Starfleet Medical. They had tried getting him to go to the emergency room just across the street – he was a little more emergent then what they could offer him – but he had strongly declined, requesting to be seen regardless. Dr. Harrison was gently examining his back, a crud paper gown adorning his exhausted features.

“Uh, an 8?” His stomach flipped and flopped once as he felt her press on a certain spot on his back. _That hurt_. But he didn’t verbalize it. He did, however, flinch.

“Hmm. And you say you hit your head on your friend’s cabinet almost a week ago? And the pain never went away?”

He mumbled yes.

“And when did the nausea start?”

“This morning,” he managed to get out before he threw up _again_. He started coughing, shooting up from his side-lying position into a sitting position, recoiling away from the doctor’s touch as she tried to comfort him. He dry heaved; nothing in his stomach. Not even 7-Up.

Her face was filled with concern as she walked around the exam table, facing him. “If I had half a mind, I would admit you to the emergency room on grounds that you are unstable and cannot appropriately determine what sound medical advice is for yourself, Mr. Kirk. But I know you have half a mind to ignore my determination in that matter, and since you are still alert and oriented, I rescind on that fact. I am going to give you a dose of phenergan. While we wait for that to kick in, I want a blood sample. Are you afraid of small, enclosed spaces, Mr. Kirk?”

He groaned. “Maybe a little.”

She nodded, understanding. “I want an MRI of your brain and spine. We luckily have one here on our site and you have no need of going over to the hospital. I will give you some ativan before we get that scan. Your symptoms are a bit all over the place, and I want this problem narrowed down immediately. Chekov, my nurse, will be right in with your nausea medication. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

She took up her laptop and left, leaving Jim to his thoughts.

 _This. Sucks._  


	4. The Truth part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth will set you free. Or lock you in an unending torture session.

The phone vibrates under him.

It vibrates again.

Jim shifts in his place on the couch, groaning, wishing the phone to disappear into a black hole and never resurface again.

He had managed sleep all night after coming back from the urgent care. The sedative given to him for the MRI had dulled his headache and made him a bit unstable. Dr. Harrison had suggested a friend or a cab, since she was not allowing him to drive home. Jim knew he couldn’t call Bones – so he called the next best transportation: Carol Marcus. She had been an old fling for him back in college, and they had stayed friends even after the break up. She didn’t ask unnecessary questions and didn’t coddle him. She took the bus to the urgent care and then drove his car home for him.

Now, now someone was trying to bother him as his phone vibrated again. His alarm had been turned off – he had drowsily texted his TA to tell her she was on for the next day. Then he had crumpled onto the couch in moderate exhaustion and gone dark to the world – until now.

“What?” he grumbled as his stomach turned once more, his hand dragging the phone up to his face. He remembered the nausea and pain pills in his kitchen. He just had to get up to get them.

Eighteen texts. Two from Uhura. Two from Carol. Fourteen from Bones. Five missed calls. Three voicemail messages.

Upon leaving the urgent care the night before, Jim vaguely remembered being told the results of his blood test and MRI would be received the next day. He didn’t realize that meant early, early morning – like, seven in the morning.

 _Crap_.

He dragged a hand down his face before focusing on the missed calls first. Two from Bones. The rest from an unknown number. _The urgent care._ It was a good guess. He hit play on the voicemail messages first, ignoring the fact he had just received _another_ text.

 _Mr. Kirk, this is Dr. Emeline Harrison here at the Starfleet Urgent Care. I have your results from your blood test and your MRI. Please call me back as soon as possible. My number is 555-555-9856. Thank you_.

_Mr. Kirk, this is Dr. Emeline Harrison calling again. It has been over an hour since I first called and I still have not received word from you. Please call me at your earliest convenience so we can discuss your results. My number is 555-555-9856. Thank you._

_Mr. Kirk, this is Dr. Emeline Harrison calling for the third time. Please call me back as soon as possible. If you cannot call, please come to the urgent care as soon as possible. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you. My number is 555-555-9856. Thank you_.

Jim blinked. Had he really been so out of it he had missed all that? _Urgent matter_.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his stomach clenching painfully. _Nausea pills. I need my nausea pills_. He slipped off the couch, taking two deep breaths to hold back the impending vomit that he knew was going to come. He scrambled to his feet, hoping to reach the kitchen before throwing up anywhere but there on his living room floor, but it was a hopeless cause. He retched onto the carpet, only stomach acid and swallowed saliva coming up. After three painful episodes, he was dry heaving. His brain couldn’t think _._ He was sick, something was wrong, and he was in desperate need to stop the vomiting. _Pills!_

Once his stomach settled, he got up slowly, knuckles turned white as he tried to combat the pain in his head and his back. _That’s new_. He grabbed his phone and decided it was time to make that phone call to Dr. Harrison.

He walked very slowly into the kitchen, gripping his phone like it was a lifeline. As he got himself a glass of water to take with the pills, he dialed the number she had given him.

She answered on the second ring.

“Mr. Kirk!”

“Hi, sorry, I was asleep, and then – never mind. You said you had urgent news?”

There was a pause. “Mr. Kirk, I would like you to come to the urgent care so we can talk face to face.”

He gulped. “What is going on with me?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone-“

He held the phone tighter to his ear. “No. Please. Tell me. What is going on?”

There was a small sigh. “Mr. Kirk, I don’t like to give this kind of news over the phone. Honestly, I can’t. I really shouldn’t.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it? How bad? Do I have a concussion?”

He could imagine her shaking her head at that comment. He was a fool to believe it was that – a concussion. This was worse, much worse, and he knew that. He _knew that_.

“No, Mr. Kirk. Your blood test came back and your white blood cells have skyrocketed. Your hematocrit is high, which is a bit understanding from the vomiting and indicative of dehydration. Even though your red blood cells show some lacking. That is another concern to be noted for later. However, as for your MRI, it showed some non-definitive spots on your spine and your brain, and what looks like part of your left kidney. I consulted early this morning with the radiologist and a nearby oncologist. The oncologist suggests a PET scan for better imaging, but it doesn’t look good. It is very possible, Mr. Kirk, that you have cancer.”

In his mind, Jim sees the phone falling. It’s falling and falling and falling. And then it crashes into a million splintering pieces of plastic and metal, all scattered across his kitchen floor. And then he sees his knees hitting the floor and his breathing becoming haggard. And the vomit – the pills can’t stop it. He will never feel well again. He is destined to feel awful for the rest of his days.

In reality though, Jim is numb. He is still standing, still breathing, still blinking at his kitchen cabinents. His mind tries to function. “Oh-kay… what do I do now?”

“Mr. Kirk, the oncologist I discussed your results with is named Dr. Phillip Boyce. He has agreed to see you Friday at eleven am if you can clear your schedule. He and I have set up a PET scan for you at the main hospital to have it done today at ten am. You may take your nausea and pain pills with sips of water, but please don’t eat anything until after the test. And you will need someone to drive you home afterwards. This is a lot of information at once, and I do not want you to be alone right now. Is there anyone I can call so that you aren’t alone?”

Jim barely hears her last sentence, his mind reeling in the facts that he is having another test done, and he has an oncologist. _Oncologist… oncology… cancer…_

“No, no, it is fine. I will call – I’ll call my friend from last night. Uh, thank you. Uh, yeah. Thank you, for your help. And time.”

She says something else, but Jim doesn’t hear her. He has already moved onto the fact his life has shattered – and how was he supposed to pick it up again? _Bones… oh god, Bones_. What was he going to tell his best friend?

He vaguely hears a good-bye on the phone and then silence.

Unending, almost welcoming, _silence_.

An hour later, after he’s taken his pills and climbed back under his blanket on the couch, he remembers the text messages. Bones, per usual, worried while at work. Carol, asking how he was doing. And Uhura telling him of how classes were going in his absence.

And for the life of him, he feels completely and utterly out of control of everything. From friends to school to his health. _What am I supposed to do?_         

* * *

The PET (positron emission tomography) scan was brutal. It made the nausea worse. Everything hurt, and he couldn’t lie still. In the end, Jim was surrounded by the radiologist, the tech helping with the test, two nurses, and an anesthesiologist – all who were attempting to either calm him down or work on putting him to sleep.

After a terrifying few minutes of unease and a violent nausea attack, he mercifully fell into a drugged sleep of sedative and full-on nausea and pain medication. This allowed the dye to circulate successfully in his body and the technician to get the accurate scans without a shaking or moving patient.

It was, however, embarrassing to wake up in the post-anesthesia care unit, Carol hovering near him, a nurse and the anesthesiologist looming over him.

“Miiiissssssss meee?” his voice slurred, everything in his point of view blurry.

Carol gripped his hand with the strength of a thousand body-builders. “You worried me there for a second, Jim.”

He winced. “Sorrryyy.” He almost wanted to know where Bones was, but his brain quickly remembered Bones had no idea. It was why he had Carol. His friend was at work in the emergency room, saving lives. _Just not… not mine_.

“All right, Mr. Kirk. You’ll wake up more in the next few hours, so once your vitals are stable we are going to send you to the same day surgery unit until they determine you are safe to go home. They usually want you to have peed and eaten something – and kept it down – to officially let you leave. With the amount of nausea medication you keep having, they may admit you,” the nurse mused, adjusting the blanket and checking the status of the nearby continuously beeping vitals monitor. She moved onto the IV pump nearby, checking that it was administering the right rate of fluids. For having only come in for a scan, to end up in the PACU was an accomplishment in and of itself.

Jim hastily shook his head. “No. No admit.”

Carol shook her head. “You always were stubborn.”

The nurse shook her head and quietly left them alone, telling them to just ask if they needed anything. They were left in their corner of the room, each bed in the PACU only separated by shifting curtains.

He groaned, his head killing him. “Carol… I have something to tell you…”

She sat on a nearby stool, looking at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“That wasn’t a normal test.”

“Hmm, no, no it was not.”

He swallowed, the saliva feeling foreign in his mouth. He felt dry and hot and _itchy_. “I might have cancer.”

The hands holding his squeezed. “Oh Jim, I am so sorry,” she whispered, her face a mixture of pain and remorse. He didn’t want that though. He wanted someone to tell him he would be all right. That he would make it. That they would fix it. Or that he didn’t even have cancer. That he was _going to be all right_. But he knew he was lying to himself. He knew he was kidding himself thinking he wasn’t sick. The amount of nausea and vomiting he was having was too telling of a larger problem. He just wished her face didn’t have to look like that – a mixture of sympathy and regret. _No._

“Don’t… don’t grieve for me. I’m gonna fight this… I am…” He felt himself drifting again. Was that normal? He was just asleep…

“It is okay, Jim. Sleep. You’ve had a hard day,” Carol soothed, hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

He kind of liked it. Even though he couldn’t express it at that moment.

* * *

“Dr. McCoy, you have a visitor who would like to speak to you personally,” came the voice over the intercom.

He rolled his eyes. He had a ton of visitors. They were called _patients_. And he was in the middle of reading up on his latest mystery while waiting for a blood test to come back. Life in the clinic was usually not as hectic as the emergency room, but it still had its ups and downs.

He slammed his hand on the intercom button, responding with a growl, “Is it urgent?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“Fine, whatever, send them in.” _Like I’m not seeing enough patients already. Now I get someone who wants free services? I cannot._

Two point five minutes later the door opened and McCoy felt every last ounce of anger leave.

“JIM! What are you doing here?” He smiled, gesturing towards the nearest chair. “I was-“ Then he saw the signs. “Wow, wow, okay, what is going on? What is wrong?!”

His best friend was shaking, and by the looks of it, had been crying at one point. He looked like a disaster. “I…I…I didn’t want to tell you. Didn’t want to bother you. I am so sorry - I didn’t want you to know. I-I-I’m sick, Bones. I didn’t want to come to you because I just felt awful after hitting my head on that cabinet-“

“Jim-“

“I have cancer.” It just came out. Like a bomb. Something he couldn’t stop. He just needed someone else to know – he needed Bones to _know_.

And it was like the whole world had come crashing down around Bones’ ears. _Cancer_. “What-“ And then he immediately switched into doctor mode. “Okay, wait. Jim. Who have you been talking to? Who did you see? What tests have they done? What treatments are there? Where is it? Is it operable? Or is it something else? When did you find out? And you said you were _fine_ after hitting your head! Jim! Come on, tell me someth-“

“Bones, please,” his best friend pleaded, hands shaking uncontrollably. He didn’t sit, he just stood in the door like a shaking tree. “Just listen for a second. I- this is too much for me. I have a meeting with Dr. Phillip Boyce. He’s an oncologist. I-“

Bones stood, putting a finger to his friend’s mouth. “Don’t talk.” And then he wrapped his best friend up in a tight hug, trying to stem the shaking and the _fear_. He wanted it in himself, not on his best friend’s terrified frame. “I am so sorry, Jim.”

And Jim broke in his friend’s embrace, a gut-wrenching sob escaping as he still continued to shake, his hands curling into fists as they latched onto Bones’ shirt like it was an anchor. “I can’t. I can’t, Bones. I can’t. I don’t know what to do.”

“We will get through this. We will. I am going to be here, by your side, no matter what. Now,” Bones whispered, stepping back a step while still holding onto his friend. “When is your appointment?”

“In an hour.”

Bones nodded. “I can get M’Benga to cover my shift today. I am coming with you.”

“No, wait, you can’t. I can’t – I can’t keep you from your work.”

Bones held up a hand. “Um, no. You aren’t arguing this with me. I will get M’Benga to cover for me. Heck, I’ve been here since five this morning. That’s five hours. I need a break from all this for a bit. When was the last time you ate anything?”

Jim hesitated.

“Jim.”

“It’s been a while. I… I am constantly nauseated. I don’t know why. I have pills, but they don’t seem to work all that well. I-I-I had a PET scan Wednesday and it was awful. I just…”

Bones wanted to scream. _How much did you_ KEEP _from me, Jim?!_ But he didn’t say it out loud. He needed to be there for his friend, and patronizing him at this time was not going to help matters. “No, don’t worry about it. We will talk to your oncologist and find out what is going on. We will get to the bottom of this. We will – I’ll be here for you, Jim. Always.”

Jim nodded, wet tears still coursing down his cheeks. “I’m scared, Bones.”

“I know,” Bones whispered, bringing his friend back into his embrace. “I know.”


	5. The Truth part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bombardment of information that comes along with a devastating diagnosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a heavy laden medical chapter. I am first and foremost a nurse, so my trusty books were my first consultant (never underestimate the awesomeness that is a Medical-Surgical Nursing book :D), along with personal knowledge/experience, and lastly: the internet. With a small part of suspension of belief involved – it’s still fictional! 
> 
> Oh, and this is going to be a lot longer than I first thought. I mapped it out at first, but every time I go to write, things change and I add new scenes. Oops! I guess I shouldn’t assume how many chapters something will be :P

“Now, this is going to get overwhelming. I’ll be taking notes, so just – just go with the flow. He probably hasn’t had a lot of time to consult, so honestly, don’t expect magic this first appointment. He’s probably going to issue a few more tests – yes, I know, _more_ tests. Don’t give me that look. We like to have all our ducks in a row before diagnosing. Honestly, I’m amazed they already dropped the c-word on you. Like, is that entirely _fair_? I hope they biopsy something. We need confirmation, and a plan. Oh god, this is going to be a scheduling _nightmare_.”

Jim sat in the waiting room of the nearby hematology-oncology medical office listening to Bones ramble on, the names of two oncologists blurring in front of his eyes as he stared down at the information sheet handed to him by the receptionist.

_Dr. Phillip Boyce, MD, Medical Oncology, Board Certified_

_Dr. Christine Chapel, MD, Radiation Oncology, Board Certified_

They were partners. Tag-teaming when necessary. _When necessary_. Jim wanted to throw up, again. But thankfully the nausea pills had kicked in and he wasn’t feeling nauseous. He had tuned Bones out after he had said _more tests_. _Please no more tests. Please. I’m done. I… I’m done_.

The waiting room was quiet. Only two other individuals sat in the waiting room, one deeply involved in a romance book (Jim noted they didn’t look sick at all. He assumed they were waiting for someone else in an appointment), and the other flipping through a worn _Medical Oncology 2013_ magazine. He almost wanted to scream – the poor woman was _bald_. _That’s going to happen to me. I’m going to lose all my hair. Fuck. And what about my students? What about school? Can I… can I get treatment and still continue to function at work?_ He had so many questions, but he didn’t voice them. Not… not yet. And definitely not around Bones.

_Bones… this must be killing him. Oh god, not Bones. Not my best friend. This isn’t happening!_

“Mr. Kirk?”

Jim jumped, startled by his name being called. Bones had already stood and was giving the nurse in the royal blue scrubs a fierce look over. “It’s Dr. Kirk.”

She raised an eyebrow. But she didn’t get a chance to answer as Jim came up, latching onto Bones’ bicep. “Stop. It doesn’t matter right now. Excuse him, please. He’s a bit – overbearing right now.”

She nodded, gesturing towards the door. Bones scowled as they were lead into the hallway behind the receptionist’s desk, and down a few doors before stopping at a scale. “Dr. Boyce always desires accurate vitals, and routine vital signs are a must. As this is your first visit, he would also like an accurate weight and height for his records. Depending on subsequent visits, it may become routine.”

Jim didn’t protest, taking off his shoes and allowing the nurse to do her job.

Ten minutes later, after a round of thermometers and blood pressure cuffs, Jim was sitting on an exam table in an exam room, a white paper gown adorning his already fragile existence (this was one of those ugly gowns that everyone gripes about and are really unflattering and entirely cruel to sensitive skin), while Bones critically read over the random informational posters in the room.

“Oh great, I’m up for a colonoscopy,” Bones grumbled, frowning at a poster describing recent statistics on colon cancer and how regularly certain age groups should be screened.

“Think they’ll make me get one of those in this hell hole?” Jim wanted it to be a joke, but in the back of his mind, he was sincerely curious. _Exactly what and how do they test all this shit and if I live, then what?_

Bones snorted. “I did one rotation in oncology in my med school career. I sincerely hope you won’t need a colonoscopy since they determined you had cancer by anMRI and a blood test. Please. Spare me the details.”

There was a hard knock on the door and they both went quiet.

An aging male, who looked about sixty five, entered the room, smiling as he set his laptop on the nearby counter. “Mr. Kirk, and – ah, Dr. McCoy. What a pleasure.”

Bones nodded. “Nothing but pleasantries, Dr. Boyce. Plus this runt is my best friend, so…”

“You two _know_ each other?!” Jim felt his jaw drop _. How the hell did I not figure that one out?!_

Dr. Boyce chuckled as he went to the little sink in the corner of the room to wash his hands. “Every now and then one of my patients does end up in the Emergency Room.”

“Oh, please, Jim. I know everyone around here.”

“There isn’t going to be a conflict of interest, is there, Bones? Because I don’t think-“

“Not now, _Jim!_ By the way, Jim is actually a Doctor himself.” Bones looked mighty pleased himself for having given that piece of information away.

Jim moaned as Dr. Boyce finished drying his hands, grabbing gloves from a nearby box. “Ignore him, really. I only have a PhD in English Literature.”

“Reminds me of my undergraduate years. I got the English degree, and then decided I wanted a different doctorate later on in life,” Dr. Boyce nodded appreciatively, slipping on the gloves. “On a more serious note, I know you’ve been poked and prodded a lot the last few days – your PET scan was not the everyday experience, I will give you that – but before we sit down and discuss your scans and my thoughts, I would like to do a general exam. Ask you a few questions about how you are feeling. You can have Dr. McCoy in the room, or you can ask him to leave. You are in control. Cancer affects everything – including an individual’s ability to control even the smallest of things. If you feel like you don’t have control, state it. I will understand.”

Jim nodded. “He’s okay to stay. He’s gonna take – notes.” Somehow Jim remembered that. Somehow.

“Would it be all right if I started with a physical exam? You can lie down with your back towards me. And also tell me when and where your headache first started.”

* * *

“This is your PET scan results. As you can see, there is a spot here on your left kidney, a long line wrapping around your spine, and three differently sized spots on the left side of your brain. This area controls your memories and emotions – this spot is neatly tucked in between your amygdale and entorhinal cortex. It is very tiny, so it makes sense that symptoms haven’t started. This area, the lateral orbitofrontal controls how you react in social environments – your emotional response. It controls the appropriateness of the situation. That spot is the largest. And the last spot is here, in your frontal lobe. Now, the frontal lobe does a lot, so we have found certain spots do certain things. This spot lies within the dorsolateral prefrontal area – where logic is the best.” 

“Essentially I should be having dementia symptoms right now,” Jim says without a hint of humor.

“I would term it as social inadaptiveness. But it is interesting that you show no signs of memory loss or social oddities. While you were getting dressed, Dr. McCoy commented on the fact that there was nothing hinting towards this disease – except a simple bump on the head and the onset of some adverse  physical symptoms.”

“My nausea.”

“Yes, that. That is a mystery to me. I would like another MRI, especially of your spinal column. It may tell me more. But what we really need is a biopsy. I have a great surgical fellow over at the main hospital who has a great skill for biopsies. You would need to be put under, and a biopsy would be taken of your spine and your kidney. At the same time we may remove the spot on your frontal lobe. It is the easiest to access and take out. In the most extreme case, you would have a hard time with logical explanations. But I do not believe a part of your personality would be taken away.”

Bones shifted in his seat, feeling like something was missing as he wrote down all the necessary information. He could only figure that his best friend was not processing half the stuff being told to him at that moment. “Do we have any idea where this started?”

Dr. Boyce set down his stylus, contemplating that question. “Origin would be found by the biopsy. I have a hunch the spinal tumor got into the blood stream and found a home in the brain and the left kidney. We will most definitely biopsy the spine. The kidney – we can take it out, but I don’t want to put the body through more stress than need be, not to mention if chemotherapy is a part of the treatment regimen, it will wreck havoc on your system, Dr. Kirk, with only one kidney.”

 _Oh lovely_. “Would we – I don’t know. I don’t know what to ask.” Jim looked confused and extremely out of sorts.

“Jim, it’s okay. This is a lot of information to take in. It is why I am here. I got this,” Bones soothed, putting a hand on his friend’s shaking form. He turned his attention back to Dr. Boyce. “If it got into the blood stream, it is possible it will show up in his bone marrow? And is it likely his spinal fluid is contaminated?”

Dr. Boyce nodded. “As a precaution, and to narrow down how to name and fight this cancer, a bone marrow aspiration and a spinal tap would be applicable. I would do them as an after-thought, however. We need to schedule a biopsy, and then get a treatment plan in place.”

“Why - why did this all start after I hit my head?” Jim wondered out loud, his brain crying out for something to hold onto. _Cancer. Biopsy. Brain. Kidney. Chemo?! Nausea. Oh god, the nausea is back. I am going to hurl_.

“The body is a mystery, Dr. Kirk. We may never know why you started to have symptoms after bumping your head. But I do know one thing: we can find out what exactly we are dealing with and how to treat it.”

“H-h-how will we treat this?”

“Nothing definitive yet. We need more results before concrete plans. I want you to have that biopsy first. You may decide to have the spot on your frontal lobe taken out, and your left kidney, but I leave that choice to you. I will give you until Monday for a decision. It isn’t a long amount of time, but I want a biopsy as soon as possible. The sooner we know what we are dealing with, the sooner we can get you into a treatment plan. I want you to come back Monday afternoon at 3pm. I will tell my receptionist to schedule you in.”

Bones stood, his notebook rustling as he flipped back to the first page. He had a ton of information, a lot to plan, and a lot of sanity. Unfortunately, his best friend looked very lost, very _lonely_ , and didn’t move from his spot. “Jim, buddy, we should go home.”

“Wait,” Jim whispered while he eyed the desk in front of him, his vision blurring all the same. “I – we stage these kinds of things, don’t we? Cancer gets – it gets staged.” _What are you asking? You have to have the worst diagnosis on the planet. It’s already spread, you asshole_.

“It does.”

“Then what-“ he stood finally, wondering if the pain he felt in his back and side and head was just his over-exaggeration of a problem he knew barely anything about. “Then what stage is this?”

The silence in the room was a silence Jim couldn’t take. “Tell. Me.”

“Worst case scenario, stage IV, originating from one of the places we talked about today. Best case scenario is each area is just a different cancer, and they can all be staged differently. But we won’t really know until we have something more concrete.”

Jim nodded numbly. _Live and let live – stage IV is probably my sentence_.

“Come on, Jim. Thank you for your time, Dr. Boyce. We will _both_ be back at 3pm on Monday.”

“Of course.”  

* * *

The apartment was cool and quiet. With the help of chicken noodle soup and saltine crackers graciously cooked by his best friend, Jim had eaten something and was finally sleeping.

Bones watched his best friend sleep on the couch, his mind wondering how _, how_ this could have happened _. Cancer. My best friend has cancer. He needs my help now more than ever_. Work, and even the thought of work, was a thousand miles away. It was something in an entirely different life.

He knew things would not be easy. Jim was stubborn. He would rebel, he would get sick, and then he would do it all over again. There was no way this diagnosis would end in defeat, and definitely not death. _What-what stage is it?_ “If only it didn’t have the inkling of being stage IV, Jim…” Bones whispered, hating himself for knowing more of how the medical world worked.

 Knowing Jim as Bones did, he knew his best friend would not abandon his students. They would come first. Work and his place at school would come first. Everything else second. It wouldn’t change. Bones just hoped Jim could manage what was about to come – the likelihood was chemo, radiation, possible surgery. At the very least, the kidney would come out. The rest would have to be fought tooth and nail. Cancer was a strange, strange disease. It was vicious, and deadly. The treatments likewise. There was no happy medium.

On the drive home, Jim had been very quiet. No matter how hard Bones had tried to start up a subject that had _nothing_ to do with what they had just gone through. But Jim was silent. Once they had reached home, Jim had asked for Bones to stay, not to leave. Like he would have left his friend in a state of complete misery – absolutely _not_. So, of course, Bones had stayed. Made food. Forced (for lack of a better word) his friend to eat something, and then watched as he fell into a mindless, less terrifying place: sleep.

_I won’t let you die on me. I won’t lose you. I can’t. We have too much to do together. Like terrorize girls, get married to said girls, have children, and retire from our respective jobs with too much money we have to give all of it away._

_Please, Jim. Don’t die on me. Not… not yet._

* * *

The Monday afternoon appointment settled everything. Jim had blood drawn there at the office that day and another MRI scheduled for seven the next morning. He then would go to the same-day surgery unit as soon as he was cleared to leave the MRI suite and be prepped for a biopsy. During the surgery, they would attempt a spinal tap and a bone marrow aspiration. But those tests were the least of Dr. Boyce’s priorities. The pathology reports would be created and Jim would get results at Friday’s 2:30pm appointment, where treatment plans would be finalized. Life was about to become all about fighting his cancer. And Jim knew that.

Jim had thought all weekend about whether he wanted to risk brain surgery at the same time, and even if he wanted to go through possible chemotherapy while only having one kidney. Will Bones’ insight, they both went over the pros and cons. In the end though, Jim decided to keep his kidney and see if treatment – whether it was radiation, chemo, or a combination of both – would work on his brain. He wanted to stay himself. And brain surgery had a way of making him _not_ himself. Irrational fears and all that.

Bones knew his next rotation was about to come up on Wednesday, and in light of everything going on with Jim, he felt he needed to take medical leave. His best friend whined though when Bones brought it up on Sunday evening.

“I won’t let you ruin your career because of me!”

“I am not ‘ruining my career’, Jim! I am taking some time off to help you! Once – once we get a routine going, then I will think about going back. Right now though, I won’t leave you alone. I won’t let you go through this by yourself! I can’t work and worry about you at the same time.”

“I’m not a baby!”

“I never said that. Stop putting words in my mouth. You’re sick, Jim. You need support. I am here. I want to be your support.”

“But you already took off Friday. You’ve already done enough for-“

“Oh, no you don’t. You don’t get to say I’ve done enough for you already. That’s a lie. This has barely begun. I will find a replacement for my shifts for the indefinite future. I am allowed medical leave. This is an emergency. You are my – my _friend_. I won’t let you do this alone.”

“I’m not asking to do it alone. I just don’t think you need to go on medical LEAVE for this! I’m FINE!”

In the end, Bones had slammed a few doors and still went on medical leave indefinitely. Jim had slammed his own doors, locking himself in his bedroom while Bones made his calls. Bones didn’t regret his decision. He just hoped Jim would see some sense in his decision. Jim had no one else. His students weren’t going to care for him, his mother was back in Iowa, his father and brother dead, and his old fling, Carol Marcus, was not an option. That left Bones to help care for Jim – emotionally, mentally, and in some ways, physically.

 _We’re a mess_ , Bones had thought to himself. _This is a mess_. It wouldn’t be the last time he told himself that either.

By Monday afternoon, Jim hadn’t said a word about their fight, and Bones didn’t really care. Jim had managed to go to classes that morning, giving his TA a crash course in substituting while at the same time handling the grapevine. He told his students that day about his diagnosis and that the future was uncertain. When he had more information, he would tell them what was up. Along with telling his coworkers the bad news. It had been rough, and by the time Jim had shown up at Dr. Boyce’s office, his energy was shot.

But that didn’t stop him. By the end of the appointment, Jim was holding onto instruction sheets on how to prepare for surgery the next day and trying to figure out exactly how to tell his students he was out for the week.

“They know you’re sick, they will understand,” Bones soothed, or attempted to sooth, as he watched Jim scroll endlessly on his phone, eyes tracking uselessly.

“It was hard enough telling them I had cancer – and now – now I will be out for the week. I can’t miss all of this school, Bones. I just – I can’t.”

Bones wrapped his best friend in a hug, resting his chin Jim’s shoulder. “When we have a treatment plan, we will arrange it so you miss the least amount of work, okay? You’re going to be fine. This will work out. Your students understand. Your health _matters_.”

“I know, I know,” Jim sighed, setting his phone down. “This just sucks.”

Bones couldn’t agree more.   


	6. How to be a Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones knows how to poke fun with a side of seriousness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept researching things going "Oh, I could add that and this and oh, that medication!" when in the end I just completely went on going on with whatever Jim had in mind.
> 
> Leave it to him to prove me wrong on some accounts :P

Surgical bay 3 was _freezing_.

Jim curled further into himself as he lay on his right side on the gurney, almost imagining that he could see his breath. He couldn’t, but it was _that_ cold. Multiple voices were talking around him, prepping for what they were about to do to his body. _Everything._

He was supposed to have gotten rest the previous night, but he had been nervous, strung out on pain medications, and too occupied with his students’ papers to really care about treating himself right before _fucking surgery_.

Then the MRI had rattled his brain (or so it seemed), the noise level far exceeding anything that resembled a calm nature. It went much better than the PET scan, but the technician had to do the scans twice before the radiologist even gave approval to let him _out of the damn doughnut hole!_

Then the needles. Sure, the nurse prepping him was kind, gentle, and actually _really_ good with an IV, but it still made him nauseous. Bones, bless his best friend’s gruff but gentle heart, held the bowl as Jim threw up, regardless of how much Zofran was given to him through said IV. It should have been enough to postpone his surgery – but nothing but stomach acid came up. Then the Protonix was added into his IV to hopefully stem the production of said stomach acid.

Now Jim was naked, covered by a thin sheet and the oncoming slot of surgical drapes. Just a few minutes prior, outside the surgical bay with Bones still at his side, Dr. Boyce and his skilled-biopsy-taking surgical fellow by the name of Spock discussed what the surgery would entail. (Dr. Spock’s first name was absolutely unpronounceable, so Jim just proceeded to call the guy Spock. Too many doctors, not enough time, that kind of thing.)

“We will biopsy the mass surrounding your spine first. We will then perform a spinal tap, allowing us to collect spinal fluid to culture. We will be looking for signs of metastasis. As it is curled around your spine, it is likely there may be infiltration into your spinal fluid. Our next test will be a bone marrow aspiration from your hip, to also look for metastasis. It helps us determine what treatments we will proceed with. Last, we will biopsy your kidney, as you have decided not to remove it.”

Jim had just nodded. Bones was more of the techno-babble guy on this one – Jim just went along with whatever was going on. He figured he really didn’t need to memorize this part of the journey. He was the one being poked and prodded.

“It’ll save you a ton of time and pain, Jim,” Bones said, trying to assure that his friend understood.

Jim hadn’t responded.

 _Don’t let them kill me_ …

“All right, Mr. Kirk, I’m going to be administering propofol now. It’s the anesthetic I discussed with you earlier,” the anesthesiologist, another doctor by the name of Christopher Pike, soothed, a syringe already hooked up to the IV in Jim’s right arm. Earlier he had been given morphine when Dr. Pike had come by, and Jim could only assume he would get it again. He did remember being told that the anesthetic would start with a p. Otherwise, he cared little. _Just no allergic reaction, please…_

Seconds ticked by, the voices continuing to drone on around him as Jim started to feel the effects of the medication. _It is going to suck coming back to the living_. It always sucked coming back to the living for him.

“I want you to count backwards from one hundred to zero out loud, if you could please, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim sighed, feeling his eyelids droops. _They aren’t very creative, are they? Why am I doing this?_

He didn’t even get to say one hundred before he was asleep.

* * *

“OW, STOP THAT!”

“If you weren’t such a baby-“

“I just had surgery, you idiot! I don’t take kindly to people poking at my bandages!”

Bones rolled his eyes, surveying the multiple spots where needles had entered and a surgeon’s knife had cut into his friend. “You’ll be fine, you big baby.”

“Oh my GOD!”

“Nurse, I think he’s ready to go home now.”

“I threw up five minutes ago!”

“You are insufferable.”

Jim didn’t get a chance to retaliate, his stomach once again rebelling.

Bones, once again, was holding the barf bowl. What were best friends for?

“See, not ready,” Jim managed to mumble shortly after another swish-and-spit with water.

The nurse arrived, shaking her head as she held up something shaped like a bullet. “Dr. Pike just gave me the order to give you this. It should help your nausea and vomiting, on top of the Zofran and the Protonix we’ve given you.”

“Ohhhhh, Jim, a suppository. It’s your lucky day!”

Jim would later claim the bowl just hadn’t been in his point of view and throwing up half-digested applesauce all over Bones’ new tennis shoes had been a complete accident. 

* * *

[Did you finish grading the quiz from Monday?]

The response to Jim’s text comes a minute later: [Yup. Average was 86%. Any idea on when you’ll be back in class? Also, I had a couple of students ask about work over SB.]

_Shit. Spring Break!_

Jim dropped his head back on his pillow, the left side of his body aching. _What am I going to give my students to do over Spring Break? Midterms has already passed, I graded those papers… I could mercifully let them off, but I’m going to go crazy with boredom if I don’t have something to look forward to_.

Then the idea hit him. _A two page paper on personal grief in English Comp I and II, and a two page reflection on health and wellness in Literature of the 20 th Century and Shakespeare._ He quickly texted Uhura telling her he would email her about Spring Break. [I should know about getting back to work on Friday. Thanks for understanding.]

“BONES! Could you get my laptop for me?!!”

As much as Jim hated asking for the help, his doctor friend was being a menace, demanding he rest frequently. And he wasn’t allowed to move from the bed except to use the bathroom. It was a difficult task, really. He wasn’t used to inactivity.

When Jim got no answer, he groaned. _Damn it, now he’s ignoring me_. _I can fix that_. “BONES, I’M GOING TO GET UP AND GET MY LAPTOP!”

Bones was in his bedroom in five seconds flat. “NO, NO YOU AREN’T!”

“You wouldn’t answer.”

“Because I’m not giving you your laptop.”

“I need to email my students.”

“Work can wait.”

Jim scowled. “No, it can’t. I’ve been out for a week. I barely got to torture them on Monday. Spring Break is in a week and I have to give my teacher’s assistant the 411 on the assignments for each class.”

“Text her.”

“That will take FOREVER. I type faster on my laptop. Please? I’ll rest it on my stomach – not touching my hips or legs or anything else sensitive – and I won’t take longer than thirty minutes. And I won’t move.”

Bones narrowed his eyes, wondering if he was willing to trust his friend to stick to those conditions and more. “One more condition.”

“Oh for goodness gracious, BONES.”

“Take it or leave it, Jim.”

“Fine, what?”

“You will take two pain pills, a nausea pill, and your antibiotic at fifteen hundred sharp, and then you take a nap.”

 _It’s like he owns me!_ “I know you find pleasure in torturing me, Bones.”

“All in a day’s work. I’ll get your laptop.”

“Hey, and my snickers bar from Dr. Boyce! It’s been two days!” 

* * *

 

The office is quiet as Jim sits drumming his fingers against the arm rests. He is restless. His pain is bearable, and his nausea somewhat in lingering in the back of his mind. Bones sits beside him, eyes scanning the diplomas and certificates hanging the walls of Dr. Boyce’s office.

“Sorry I am late, was held up by another patient,” Dr. Boyce breezes into the office, a shadow close behind. “Dr. Spock has kindly agreed to join me this afternoon.”

Dr. Boyce sat in his familiar chair while Dr. Spock chose to stand to the right of the desk, a folder clasped in his fingers, their carefully manicured look gently curled around the pathology reports confirming – or maybe even denying – Jim’s cancer.

“Where would you like to start, Dr. Kirk?”

Jim hadn’t even been nervous. Until now. He gulped. “Uh…”

“Jim and I talked. We want to know the blunt truth up front,” Bones took over easily, giving Jim a moment to breathe.

Dr. Boyce nodded. Dr. Spock opened up the folder and laid it out before Jim and Bones. “The specimen from your spine is a confirmed ependymoma tumor. It has wrapped around your spine from L3 to T9. The specimen from your kidney confirms that its origin is from this tumor. We did not biopsy the spots on your brain, but it is assumed that they are also of origin from your spinal tumor. If our treatment plan does not succeed, we will explore other avenues, along with a biopsy of those sites if needed. It is common for a spinal tumor to metastasize to the brain, as the cells are alike.”

 _I really do have cancer._ “I have stage… stage…” Jim’s brain failed to let him speak the number out loud. _Stage IV_.

“Yes, Dr. Kirk, you have stage IV spinal cancer,” Dr. Boyce confirmed, his face empty of emotion. It was never easy delivering bad news, but it was also a trained part of him to speak the facts and not get involved emotionally.

Jim felt Bones’ hand on his, squeezing gently. “So what are we going to do about this?” Bones’ voice betrayed nothing, even though Jim _knew_ his best friend had to be breaking just as badly as he was. _Oh god, no… cancer…_

“The spinal tumor is firing off nerves on a continuous basis that is causing Dr. Kirk frequent nausea and vomiting. Our first line of action is a nerve blocker that will hopefully calm the nerves by blocking receptors. The downside is that the treatment may put Dr. Kirk in a wheelchair during the course of his treatment.”

Jim blanched. “So give up walking just so I don’t throw up all the time?”

“There is another option. We can give you two different antiemetics simultaneously on a regular basis, with another one on the side for as needed coverage.”

“Can we – can we try that first?” Jim didn’t want to lose his ability to walk. He didn’t want to lose anything.

“Absolutely. If we hit a few bumps in the road, we will continue looking into alternatives.”

“What about eradicating his cancer?”

_Gotta give it to, Bones, he always hits the nail on the head._

“Radiation and chemotherapy. Because of the blood-brain barrier, chemotherapy is a poor choice on the spine and the brain. But because of the metastasis to the kidney, chemotherapy is a good choice. I talked to my partner, Dr. Chapel, and she suggested external radiation on the spots in the brain. As for the spinal tumor, she suggested a very interesting combination.”

“And that is?”

“Radiation pellets to varying spots on the tumor, which would let out their load of radiation slowly. At the same time, shower the complete tumor with external radiation. Because of our precise measurements with technology, there is minimal risk to the surrounding vertebra. The nerves, however, may suffer damage. Because of the tumors placement, it is possible there may be interference with your everyday activities – walking a main one. But if we do nothing, the tumor will only continue to grow and symptoms will begin to show. As you have minimal symptoms at this time, it tells us that the tumor has yet to truly do any damage to your spinal cord. We will continue to monitor its progression through-out treatment.”  

 _I could lose my ability to walk because of this thing_. “So I need another surgery,” Jim sighed, feeling the weight of this meeting settling on his shoulders like a two-ton boulder. _And so soon after my last one_.

“Yes. And soon. The pathology report states that the cancer is aggressive – it grows in a very short amount of time. I would like to have you admitted to the hospital for your first chemotherapy treatment along with the surgical implantation of the radiation pellets. Once we have them in, we can get another scan, make sure we are handling your symptoms effectively, and then set up a more concrete schedule on an outpatient status.”

“Wait, wait – _admission_ to the hospital? So this wouldn’t just be a day surgery thing?” _What – what about work?_!

“Radiation is a very serious matter. The recovery would not be fast. I would expect that when we have officially scheduled the placement of the pellets, you would be in the hospital for at least two weeks recovering from the surgery itself, along with the very first induction dose of chemotherapy. If complications arise, possibly three to four weeks.”

“Okay, no. I have – I have a job. I can’t take that much time off work.”

“Jim-“

Jim felt everything spiraling out of control. He stood, trying to catch his breath. Somewhere along the way he could feel the panic attack starting, he just hadn’t recognized it. “No. I can’t – _no_ ,” he whined, hands clenched into fists.

“Jim, look at me,” Bones had stood also, his hands on Jim’s shoulders, trying to help him calm down. “Breathe. We have time. We can find a solution. Spring Break is coming up. That lasts two weeks. If you were to go into surgery next week, you would be out before your students got back into the class room. We can find a solution. It’s okay. Everything is going to be _okay_.”

 _Spring Break. Oh god, my students. My students!_ Jim numbly sat back down, his breathing still haggard. “Everything – everything _hurts_.”

“You’ve been taking Percocet since the biopsy, has it been helping?”

Jim nodded, somehow still managing to focus on the fact he was in a doctor’s office talking about… cancer and pain pills and _radiation_.

“I will prescribe more of it, along with morphine for added coverage. Call me on Monday. I know it isn’t a lot of time to decide what you want to do, but none of this is set in stone until you decide what you want, Dr. Kirk. You have the option to agree to everything I have lain out, or decide to not attempt any of it, or some of it. Research. Talk. Call me Monday with your decision.”

Bones thanked both of the doctor’s as they left, giving them privacy. Jim didn’t move as Bones rested his hands on his best friend’s knees, having moved to squat in front of Jim. “Come on, Jim. We can go home now. We can talk about everything we learned today. But I’ll wait until you are ready. Everything will be all right, Jim. Just – trust me.”

Jim shook his head, feeling the tears, the frustration. _I’m scared_ was all he wanted to scream, but it didn’t come out. Only a sob of anguish. It was too much. Far too much.


	7. Hospital Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is worse than missing work for a hospital stay. What would Jim do without Bones at his side?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to just put a stop somewhere and say "okay, post!" lol. I just kept writing. I love having nothing to do BUT write! It feels good. I'm much more upbeat about this calendar year than I have been in the past. I'm pushing myself more. Even if my arms are protesting. :(
> 
> So, as for timeline, Spring Break at Jim's University is about to begin - so it's the end of March/beginning of April (they have two weeks of Spring break - I'm liberal with my school system :D) The prologue is set around July, so of course, a lot of mundane stuff has to happen before we reach July. You will notice when we pass the prologue. It'll be obvious! :) I'm already taking hints at it.
> 
> Thanks for all the hits, comments, and kudos! They are all much appreciated :)

“Did you pack your toothbrush?”

“Hmm?” Jim looked up from his laptop, his fingers wildly typing out his rather urgent email to Uhura. Granted, he was hoping to be back before Spring Break ended, but with the fact he would be out of commission the rest of the week due to every damn treatment under the sun for cancer, he didn’t have time to fool around.

“Toothbrush. Ya know, good oral care while you’re sick is essential to-“

Jim rolled his eyes, pointing to his bag. “If you want to take inventory of my personal shit I’m taking with me, then please, go ahead and snoop. I don’t care. I have to make sure she understands everything I want done while I’m gone.”

Bones sighed and shrugged as he watched his best friend go back into scary teacher mode. He had managed to get a leave of absence for his upcoming shifts and had been on Jim’s ass, unintentionally even if almost literally, the whole day before while Jim had ran around the University grounds looking like he was going to lose his sanity. Even now Bones saw that crazed look in his best friend’s eyes as he tried tying up loose ends.

The bag Jim had packed was filled with toiletries (thankfully a toothbrush was in there), academic papers, and a few books. More than likely Jim was going to get a head start on next year’s reading list. At least he wasn’t signed up for any summer teaching gigs – and he wasn’t going to be now, seeing as his summer would probably be filled with a crap ton of awful medical treatments. Bones knew Jim too well.

“This is all you want? No comfort foods, no blankets? Anything I can get to help you adjust?”

Jim didn’t stop typing as he replied, “I’ll be in and out of there in two weeks. If nothing less, three weeks. I will be _fine_.”

Bones shook his head. Jim had gone from ‘what about school?!!’ to ‘let’s get this shit done’ in all of three days. He had no idea if Jim was feeling okay. He took his pills, had a bowl close by, and had stopped complaining. Not that he had complained much before. Though, Friday has resulted in one hell of a cry fest. Somewhere along the way, Bones had missed the fact his friend had come to accept his diagnosis. Or he was just in heavy denial.

He glanced at his watch, noting the time. “It’s eight forty five in the morning. You are supposed to be at the hospital at –“

“Ten am, stop pushing me to go faster. I already know they have a needle ready for me.”

“Jim-“

“Holy fuck, just GIVE ME A SECOND! I am NOT leaving my students hanging while I’m at the hospital. Fuck, I got enough grief from the Board yesterday! Can you not?!”

Bones blinked, eyebrows raised. He wasn’t going to take it personally. “Okay, Jim.” He sifted through the bag, reading the book titles. _I’m not helping, and you know it_.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Jim stopped focusing on his laptop, rubbing a hand down his face. He looked tired, worn out, and – anxious. “I just – I _know_. I’m being an ass. I’m tired and – I just want to do things normally before all hell breaks loose. I’m worried. I’m sorry.”

Bones sighed. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“But I do.”

“Jim, it’s okay. Finish your work. I know you – you won’t be late. You aren’t dumb. I’m fine. We’re _fine_.”

Jim didn’t look convinced, but gave up trying to apologize as he went back to finishing his work. He looked – dejected.  

Bones could still feel the tension. _I don’t want to lose you. I just don’t want to give up on you. Just don’t give up on yourself. Not yet. Not when we have so much ahead of us_.

* * *

“Dr. Boyce and Dr. Spock will be up to visit this evening,” the nurse rambled on, her fingers working with the IV machine beside the bed. “I received the orders for your stay, complete with every medication they could manage to shove into a list about three pages long, radiation treatments dates and times, and your surgery tomorrow morning. I will bring you a list of your appointments for you so you can keep track of what is going on while you are here. You will be NPO after midnight tonight. The night nurse will get you all ready for surgery – including teaching, any information you will need, and any preparatory medication.  You also have a CT scan with contrast later this afternoon after your initial radiation treatment at noon.” She smiled at both of the occupants of the room as she pulled her stethoscope off from around her neck. Her name badge shifted, showing the name that she had used to introduce herself to the pair upon admission to the Intensive Care Unit: _Lindsay Wellington, RN, CCRN_. “Is there anything I can get for either of you?”

Bones gave Jim a look, inquiring whether his best friend was going to bombard the lovely young nurse with a million questions.

Jim rolled his eyes in response before vocalizing his response. “I’m okay. But I don’t remember a CT scan being on the list for the day, and I saw Dr. Boyce yesterday. And this contrast stuff – is that the same stuff they use for PET scans, because I had a bad reaction to that last time.”

“I will look into that for you and call Dr. Boyce.”

“Thanks.”

Lindsay left and Jim sat back in the bed, closing his eyes to the brightness of the room, ignoring the fact he was in a hospital with an IV in his arm and a radiation treatment in over an hour.

“You going to be okay, Jim?”

“I’m fine.”

“We can talk about-“

“No, I’m fine.” He paused, realizing he did want to talk about _one thing_. “I just – _another_ scan? And now a scan I haven’t had with a contrast I probably am allergic to? You should have seen me at that PET scan. I thought Carol was going to have a heart attack when they brought in the crash cart.”

Jim heard the chair squeak across the floor as Bones came closer to the bed. “You don’t have to get it done if you don’t want to. I’m sure Dr. Boyce and Dr. Spock have plenty of scans to know where to implant the radiation pellets tomorrow. Everything will go smoothly. You have a right to refuse any medical treatment or test that you do not want to go through with. You are here voluntarily. You have every right to say ‘no’ right now and leave. I won’t hold it against you.”

He gulped, trying hard to fight back the fears, the tears, and the absolute _frustration_ with the situation. “I’m keeping you from your job, from what you do best. This isn’t your area. This is keeping us both from our jobs. I just – I want to _feel_ better,” he whispered.

Bones took Jim’s hand in his. “You didn’t take me from my job, Jim. I’m here just as voluntarily as you are. I’m here for _you_ and that’s the important part. I’m not leaving while you need me. I’m not going to lose my skills just because I take a few weeks off of shift. The Emergency Room can function without me. You will feel better, soon. And I’m here to stem all the fears – just give them to me. I’m here to listen, to scream at, and to puke on. And so much more. I’m not leaving, unless you want me to leave.”

“No, no, please-“

“Then I’m not. I’m here for you.”

Jim felt his chest aching from having held his breath, and when he finally sucked in another gulp of air, he realized he just needed to have that reassurance. “Okay, okay… yeah… thank you.”

“You need a distraction. I brought chess.”

Jim’s eyes snapped open. “You are so on.”

* * *

In light of Jim’s reaction during his PET scan, the CT scan on Tuesday had been cancelled and Jim had only gone down to the cancer center in a wheelchair (something about hospital policy) for his initial set up, scans, and first radiation treatment to his brain. The sheet of instructions on how to care for the areas that were being irradiated was long – almost four pages were filled with what to do in the case of burns, what to do in the sun, hair loss, pain, itching, and a multitude of other signs, symptoms, and occurrences. It was overwhelming, to say the least. If things went well, he would be back in the radiation suite Thursday or Friday, with a schedule of five days a week for the next twelve weeks. The days would vary upon Jim’s own personal schedule, his chemotherapy schedule, and when he would be discharged from the hospital.

Surgery the next day went off without a hitch. The placements of the radiation pellets in the tumor surrounding Jim’s vertebra looked ‘marvelous’, or that’s what Dr. Boyce said enthusiastically as he updated both Jim and Dr. McCoy on the outlook of treatment early Thursday morning after a quick MRI.

This time around, however, the puking session lasted for much longer and was just that much more intense. The anesthesia left Jim loopy and nauseous. Both symptoms resulted in two MDs scrambling to prescribe as much anti-nausea medicine as was legally and therapeutically applicable.

“Oh god, what did I they do to me?” He muttered to himself, grasping the pink basin like it was his lifeline, Bones inside the room’s connecting bathroom, cleaning another basin and getting Jim a hot washcloth. Bones was a busy caretaker, feeling like a nurse himself as he cleaned basin after basin of stomach acid, spit, and saliva. If he wasn’t cleaning a basin, he was wringing out a washcloth. And if it wasn’t that, he was hunting down warm blankets, another pillow, and whatever nurse happened to be on shift at the time.

“Sorry,” Jim managed in between hacking coughs. His back ached, and he had been instructed to either lie on his stomach or his sides for forty eight hours post-surgery. He was propped up with pillows lying on his right side while leaning over the bed as he once again threw up.  

Bones shrugged, giving Jim a sad smile as he held the basin. “Could be worse.”

“Did – Dr. Boyce say if I was having a radiation treatment today? I know I didn’t yesterday.”

“Tomorrow. Along with your first chemo. Which, I think might be too soon if they don’t get a handle on the meds. And jesus, I prescribe this shit all the time in the Emergency Room. You would think an oncologist would have this nailed.”

“Tumor, remember?” Jim managed to crack a smile. So he’d found a sense of humor with his diagnosis – that was a good sign.

Bones rolled his eyes and look to the ceiling. “Lord, help us in the new adventure. He’s going to be an ass the whole time, isn’t he?”

Jim punched Bones in the arm, lightly, groaning. “Dude, don’t. Ugh, can you find the nurse again? My back is killing me.”

The notebook with every vital piece of information was spread out on the bedside table, its contents the literal map of Jim’s cancer journey. Bones had started it the day Jim had dragged him into the oncologist’s office. Since then, it had been filled with specifics: location of the cancer, signs and symptoms, possible signs and symptoms, chemotherapy drugs and radiation treatments. It had every drug Jim was on in vivid detail, along with every single time Jim had been given that medication. It was like a factual diary of everything that went in and occurred to one James T. Kirk’s body.

Bones picked up the notebook, flipping to an already-wearing page filled with pain medications. “Hmm, you were last given morphine two hours ago – you have to wait for that. But you have dilaudid, tylenol, and oxycodone that are okay to have. How bad is the pain?” (To Bones’ credit, he was helping the nurses out a ton, even if they still did their own assessments. He was a doctor with a crap ton more knowledge than the nurses, but they still had to critically think and gather their own information before implementation.)

Jim closed his eyes, feeling his nausea settle. “Uh, a six.”

“I’ll go ask for an oxycodone. You up for a sip of water with that?” It was, unfortunately, an oral medication, and not an IV medication, unlike the dilaudid and morphine.   

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Bones snorted. “You said that last time.”

“Just get me the pain medication.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

* * *

Friday passed in a drug-induced blur. One second Jim was being told to _stay still!_ as the radiation technician irradiated three different parts of his left brain, the next second the worst red-colored chemotherapy concoction of _all time_ was being dripped slowly into his veins through the peripherally inserted central line (known as a PICC) that had been skillfully inserted by a PICC-certified nurse the day before.

This time, the instruction sheet was an eight page booklet that the nurse would claim “still doesn’t hold all the answers” – which was terrifying in and of itself. Chemotherapy would probably be the worst treatment – it messed with the whole body, not just his brain or his spine. He was at risk for fractures, memory loss (which determining if it was the tumors in his brain or the chemo causing said memory loss would be a bridge they would cross when they came to it), hair loss, chemo burn – an unfortunately painful necrosis at the site of injection, which he was at minimal risk for as he had in a PICC line – and of course the normal nausea and vomiting, diarrhea, skin rash, erectile dysfunction, possible sterility, and of course facial swelling. The book wasn’t just about side effects of the concoction of drugs being pumped into his body (he was receiving two drugs simultaneously at that time, and that would be administered once a week or so, and then every other week he would receive another drug that would be given IV push and not by IV drip), but also gave suggestions on how to curb and/or anticipate chemo brain, appetite changes, weight loss,  taste bud changes, eye sight changes, skin problems, and many other possible occurrences that could happen while on a chemotherapy regimen. There was also a list of things (mostly food, skin products, and medications) that were strongly opposed to while someone was on chemotherapy.

One of the foods was caffeine.

“Wait, so I can’t have coffee?!” Jim had almost yelled as that old familiar feeling that his world was crashing around him came back to surface.

“You can still have it, but it is strongly recommended that you don’t. You may likely grow an aversion against it, plus caffeine as a stimulant in your body during your chemotherapy treatments can be potentially hazardous. But the treatment is yours, and we can’t stop you from ingesting it. Who knows, it might even benefit you.”

That news had left a bad taste in Jim’s mouth.

Fortunately, as the drug began its assault on his cancer that Friday afternoon, Jim wasn’t feeling any nausea, even if the pain in his back was barely tolerable.  However, if his surgical incisions healed with good timing and he managed the chemotherapy well, he could be out on outpatient status in just over a week. Which made him thrilled beyond belief. Optimism helped.

The chemo treatment was entirely boring. Jim sat in his room, letting a physical therapist evaluate his physical status while Bones read something on his phone. The room was filled with chatter as the therapist talked, commenting on his status and moving his legs, testing his pain and strength. The radiation pellets that had been placed put him at minimal risk for possible nerve damage and paralysis to the lower half of his body. He would be assessed by a physical therapist once every month while the radiation gave out therapeutic doses to his surrounding tissue – the tumor, mostly. If anything in his physical status changed before his next appointment, he was supposed to call an emergency number – another one of those handy dandy information things that went straight into the all-important notebook.  

By the time the cute therapist left, the nurse, the same lovely Lindsay from his admission on Tuesday, was back in the room, checking up on the chemotherapy drip, her hands double gloved as she made sure the IV machine was still going at the correct rate.

“Why do you put on two pairs of gloves?” Jim had noticed it the first time she had come into the room with another nurse as they double checked the medication before hanging it.

Lindsay smiled as she slipped off her gloves into the nearby trash can. “It protects me from the harmful chemicals. It’s ironic, really. We pump human bodies full of this deadly stuff because we want to take out the bad cells before wiping out all the good cells, but when it comes to the safety of the nurses, physicians, and pharmacists who handle all chemotherapy, we have to wear double the safety equipment, else we put ourselves at risk. The disposal of the chemotherapy bags is also very specific. And everything is done by two sets of eyes. Kind of like the handling of blood products, even though that is much safer to administer.

“It’s for my safety, even though the irony is not lost on me. If I shouldn’t be touching this stuff, then why on earth are we giving it to people?”

“Smart deduction, Sherlock,” Bones noted.

“Thank you. I’ll be back in an hour, unless you need anything. Any nausea? Anything out of the ordinary? How does your left arm feel?”

Jim shrugged. “I’m fine. Back pain right now. Nothing out of ordinary. Thankfully no nausea. And it feels fine.”

“Good.”

“I’d play chess with you, but you _cream_ me every time,” Bones huffed, glaring at his best friend.

Jim laughed. “Because I’m far more talented at it then you EVER will be.”

“Listen to this guy. He’s such a smart alack.”

“I am, and you know it.”

Lindsay laughed as she left the room. “Doesn’t hesitate to call if you need anything!”

“But, really, Bones, why won’t you play with me anymore?!!”

“BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS WIN!”


	8. A Strained Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finally gets discharged from the hospital. However, things don't look so hot on the friendship side of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: chapter contains more swearing than normal. Thanks!

"What the - BONES!!"  
  
McCoy was awake and up out of his chair in two seconds flat. "What? I'm up!"  
  
"Get the nurse!!! My pee is orange."  
  
"What?" Bones knitted his eyebrows together, confused as he walked to the private bathroom attached to the room. Jim's incision was healing well, so he had been transferred to a new room on the Medical/Oncology floor come Sunday evening. New nurses and a new feel of things. Same hospital. The chemotherapy had dripped in slowly over a period of four hours and then it was all just a waiting game on managing side effects until Dr. Boyce and Dr. Spock both cleared him for release.   
  
"My pee is orange!" Jim whined. "Just get the nurse! I think I'm dying."  
  
Bones tried to stifle a laugh as he exited the room looking for the night nurse, the blond girl with no breasts and wore black rimmed glasses. _Ariel. That was her name._  
  
He walked to the nurse’s station, finding two of the four nurses huddled around a computer screen. "Isn't he adorable?"  
  
"Those engagement pictures are perfect, Lauren!"  
  
Bones coughed, making two heads turn. "Dr. McCoy! How may I help you?" Ariel got up off the floor and came around the counter, giving him a bright smile.  
  
"Jim is having a bit of a heart attack in the bathroom. Something about his urine being orange."

"He didn't read the whole book, did he?"  
  
"He told me he did. Must have missed the bolded 'NORMAL OCCURRENCE: URINE TURNS ORANGE FROM THIS MEDICATION!' But what do I know, I am not his oncologist."  
  
"Or his nurse," she teased, leading him back to room 415.  
  
"I am dying," Jim said out loud, his head in his hands as he sat on the toilet.  
  
"Actually, you're not," Ariel replied brightly from the doorway. "An orange tinge to your urine is a normal occurrence while on your chemotherapy. It'll last a few days while your kidneys flush out the remnants. The drug doesn't actually start working until two weeks after the administration, but you get some funky things going on starting anywhere from 30 minutes to two, three days after."  
  
"So I am okay?"  
  
"Right as rain. In fact, you’re having a pretty good time so far. But don't let the first dose fool you. This drug tends to mess with your appetite, hair, and skin the most."

The thought didn’t appeal to Jim in the slightest.

Ariel asked if they needed anything, and Bones gave her the okay – they were fine. She smiled and disappeared as Bones just leaned against the door jam, a shit-ass grin all over his face.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You crack me up.”

“Shut up. This – fuck, this is bad enough. Now I have a shit ton more to look forward to.”

“You wanna talk?”

Jim shrugged as he leaned his elbows on his thighs. “I’m gonna – my hair. It’s gonna be gone.”

“You may not have control over what the drugs do to your body, or your cancer, but you have control over when and how to manage symptoms and the small things. You probably will lose your hair. I’m sorry about that. You do, however, have the control over _when_ you lose it. You can watch it go, powerless to do anything about it, or you can take charge and kick that statistic in the ass – shave it off before that time comes. Remember that you are the one who gets to choose what you want to control over the things you _can_ control.”

 _I have control. Just not the right control_. “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a while before Jim finally decided to get out of the bathroom and climb back into bed.

“You can go home, you know,” Jim managed to say as he yawned against his pillow after having another pillow shoved behind his back so he was lying on his right side, facing the small window in the room. It had been dark for a while. Time had somehow been lost that night. He assumed it was sometime after midnight, if anything. _He should… go home… it’s late._

Bones gave his best friend an easy smile in response, watching as he fell asleep. The conversation hadn’t ended abruptly – it was just Jim’s way of acknowledging the fact it would come back around again, soon.

 _I’m fine right where I am, Jim. I’m not leaving_.

* * *

“Everything looks good. Your numbers are holding steady after the chemotherapy and you’re tolerating the radiation so far. There are a few things you need to watch for regarding your internal pellets. Just hold tight to those care instructions given to you for both radiation treatments and the days following chemotherapy administration and you should be good. We can discuss outpatient status and a tentative schedule on Tuesday at your appointment. Dr. Spock will be there to examine your incision and take out the staples.

“You have radiation appointments on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday in the morning. Note any and all symptoms you have between now and then, no matter how big or small. If you feel like you are getting sick – flu or cold like symptoms – go to the Emergency Room immediately and tell them the chemotherapy you were given and the list of drugs you are allergic to. Then call my office and they will contact me. This is a protocol I want you to follow through-out your treatment. And I want you to take it easy between now and Tuesday. No exercise and mild school work is okay.” Dr. Boyce was quickly scribbling out instructions and prescriptions as the nurse finished up his own work in getting Jim out of the hospital before ten am.

It was an endless list of do’s and don’ts on discharge from the hospital that next Friday. After a restless five days and minimal side effects from the chemo (two puking incidents and the orange urine), Jim was feeling well enough (physically, mentally, and numbers wise) to be released.

Jim signed on the dotted lines as required on discharge, happy to be leaving. Bones had already hauled everything to the car by the time the day nurse that Friday, his name badge flashing _Eric Burns_ , was done with him. The PICC line was staying for the remainder of his chemo treatments, however long they lasted. There wasn’t a whole lot the nurse needed to do because the doctor was around with a majority of the teaching and instructions.

“Here are your prescriptions for every medication you took while in the hospital, except the dilaudid. You never took it while in the hospital, and your pain was managed effectively with oxycodone and morphine. The morphine is not IV anymore, unfortunately. And… all of your chemotherapy is by IV, so you don’t need any special instructions regarding oral. You are set to go. I will see you Tuesday at-“

“2pm, I know,” Jim smiled, taking the prescriptions. He’d been doing quite well on the combination of anti-emetics and pain medication in the hospital. It was a relief not to be in a constant nauseous state. It was still out on debate whether the regimen would hold off all chemotherapy-induced nausea and vomiting attacks, as the chemo he was on had a habit of wrecking havoc on fast-growing cells: digestive system (both directions) and hair (everywhere).

“Ready to leave, Jim?” Bones was once again leaning against a door jam, a look of ease on his face. However, it did not hide the fact he was soaking wet.

“Raining outside, Bones?”

“Hmmm, possibly.”

“I would never have guessed.”

“Come on, we need to get you home. And you need a shower.”

Jim couldn’t actually find a witty comeback against that one. He’d barely been allowed a bath with his surgical incision, and even then he’d only been offered it two days before. And it had never felt right, so he had just kindly declined. Now showers were okay, with certain precautions being taken, especially in regards to his incision and PICC line.

Jim waved to his nurse as Bones almost dragged him down the hallway towards the elevator. For as much as Jim was glad to leave, Bones seemed the most anxious to get them out of there and back home without pause.

Jim didn’t really mind.

* * *

The apartment seemed uber quiet that Monday without Bones at Jim’s side for the first time in ages. He had barely left Jim’s presence while in the hospital, leaving for only short stints to get on the phone or visit a colleague. Otherwise, he had camped out in the room for the whole eleven days Jim had been hospitalized. It was a strong show of affection, determination, strength, and friendship. Bones had gone back to his own place at Jim’s request to give him some space, at least during the night. Jim was fairing perfectly fine and Bones needed to have a normal life outside – well, this cancer thing.

Jim would never forget the regret in his friend’s eyes as he left. He had attempted to reassure Bones that it was only for the weekend, and he would call when he was up for another hang out. He just needed the alone time for a bit.

Except now even Jim was bored. Uhura had everything under control as Spring Break headed into its second and final week and so far there was absolutely nothing she couldn’t handle that he needed to take over.

The boredom was going to get to him. His radiation appointment that morning had been fast, easy, and without complication. The skin still felt okay, even if it had turned red. And the hair at the spots of irradiation was beginning to thin. It wasn’t noticeable yet, and Jim didn’t want to think about – about _that_ right then.

His mind wandered to asking Bones to come over, but he decided against that. He didn’t want Bones to _come over_. Instead, he needed to get out. He needed time away from his apartment, from being cooped up in what felt like a suffocating jail cell. He’d been in a hospital room for eleven days with little outside contact, and now he was lying in his apartment counting sheep. Or something to that effect.

 _Chess. I need a good game of chess. And coffee. Oh man, I am craving coffee_. He knew it was frowned upon while going through chemo, but he really didn’t care. He was craving it and heck, so far he hadn’t had any aversions to anything – he had always eaten everything on his plate breakfast, lunch, and dinner while in the hospital, before and after chemotherapy. Except the two meals after surgery. He had basically been too sick and too tired to really care about food. But food, in hindsight, had always been his best friend. It was a comfort.

He quickly texted Bones requesting a meet up at the local coffee shop. They had visited it occasionally over their time living in San Francisco, and it was a great place to just hang out. Except during all their time in their respective careers, any hang out either meant a good hard alcoholic drink, some form of exercise, sleep, or hanging out at the other’s residence doing work.

Jim wanted to change that. He wanted a new outlook on life.

And fuck, he really wanted some coffee and a good game of chess right then.   

His best friend texted him back a minute later.

[You are a strange human being. But okay. I’ll meet you at Coffee Perk in fifteen?]

He smiled. [Absolutely. I’ll bring the chess board.]

* * *

So the coffee was fabulous, even if they had both gone for completely standard drinks that Starbucks would have gladly given to them for a shit ton more money.

Jim was thoroughly in love with his vanilla latte – he was in no mood to go try anything fancy, plus he figured the lack of extreme creations would be a plus in his goal not to have his chemo regimen overpower everything he ate and drank for the foreseeable future. Bones, on the other hand, was testing around, his drink of choice at that moment a Hazelnut mocha with a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg.

Both drinks sat half-full as Bones concentrated fully on the chess game at hand. He was trying his hardest not to accept defeat as Jim, quite _literally_ , creamed his ass once again. Bones just did not have the talent or the logic for the game of chess. Jim, however, loved it. He’d even won the University’s chess championship two years before. Now he just played it for fun. Even though the feeling that he needed a bit more of a challenge did creep up on him from time to time, considering Bones lacked all tact.

“Ah, can I just forfeit?” Bones pleaded, his shoulders sagging as he decided he had no idea what the fuck he was doing at this late in the game.

Jim shook his head, laughing. “Fine. A lose-lose between the both of us. You can set up the board for the next game.”

Bones sighed, knocked all the pieces down, and began putting the game back to its pristine beginning once again. This would only be their _sixth_ game that day.

“So,” Jim began, sipping from his latte as he watched Bones set up the board. “When are you deciding to go back to work?”

Bones hand stilled on the white queen, his eyebrows rising as he raised his head to look at his best friend. “You are itching to see me return already, Jim?”

He shrugged. “Just a simple question. I’m out of the hospital, tomorrow Dr. Boyce and I create a working schedule for my treatments, and then I’m going back to work in a week – I don’t see why you can’t take up shifts again in the ER, or the clinic, or both.”

“What if I want the time off?” Bones went back to finishing his task, the back of his mind cursing the fact he was losing a battle with a very resilient fiend. Jim was going to push this issue into the fucking new millennium, or the expanse of space surrounding the Milky Way – something like that.

“Bones, I know you. You don’t like sitting around. You need to be doing the work you were born to do – treating and curing illness, fixing broken bones, analyzing labs and diagnosing in the blink of an eye. The Emergency Room is your play ground. Can’t you see that? You need to be doing what you love!”

“I’ll think about it, kid. At the moment, I am content not having to think about anyone else’s problems for 14 hours or 16 hours at a time. I’m good enough handling this, right here, right now.”

“I’m not a baby, Bones. And I’m _fine_. I handle the chemo like its nothing.”

“That was the first fucking dose, Jim.” Bones looked up at his friend with a stern look on his face. “You don’t know what will happen down the road. You can’t tell me you won’t get seriously ill. And I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself. All I have ever heard, ever _read,_ when it comes to cancer is the fact that those diagnosed need good, solid support. And I am all you have. You can’t tell me to move on like this is nothing.”

Jim slumped in his seat. “You aren’t the only person I have.”

“Name three other people who would be willing to sit with you doing your chemotherapy, hold your throw-up bucket, and let you cry on their shoulder? Please, show me these other people.” Bones had finished with setting up the board, but he knew both of them were too heatedly caught up in the moment to focus on the fact they could start a new game. This was more important.

“I have Carol.”

“Your ex-girlfriend. Oh yeah, she’s totally another person willing to hold your hand during this difficult time. I mean, hell, when was the last time you heard from her?”

“She took me to my PET scan. While _you_ were busy with work.”

“Oh, that’s good. So she knows you at least have cancer? Did she even call, text, or visit while you were recuperating from two fucking major surgeries?”

“She’s busy.”

“Jim, listen to me-“

“And I have my students. And Uhura.”

“They don’t count.”

“Then who the fuck _does_ count, in your all mighty knowledge of _my_ relationships and support in this fucking journey? Because really, it can’t just be you. Or we would both go fucking _crazy_.”

Bones stopped short before he made another harmful remark. _Jim…_ So instead he turned the conversation in another direction, sort of. “Have you told your mother?”

Jim snorted. “And she’s where? Heck, I don’t even think I have her phone number. Last I knew she finally left that one stepfather I had and all contact has been lost since I came out here. It’s been a few fucking years, _Leonard_. She wouldn’t care. In her opinion, she would be glad I was dying. She’d probably tell me ‘good riddance.’ My mother never cared.”

 _No. No. You aren’t – NO. I won’t – you aren’t dying. Jim!_ “Jim, she should know.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me, Bones. You don’t – no. I draw the line at the fact you don’t think I have anyone else to _hold my hand_ , as you say, in all of this, because fuck you – I could call up Carol right now and she would be happy to help. She did once. But no, I am the one who gets to choose if I tell my own fucking mother about this.

“I don’t want to do another game. I’m tired. I’ll see you later.”

Bones didn’t get a chance to even call after Jim as he sat stunned, watching in slow motion as his best friend picked up the chess board and walked out of the coffee shop with an almost laughable finality.

_Fuck. What have I done?_

* * *

“So, I can go back to work, yes?” Jim was basically a ball of adrenaline and caffeine as he sat in the familiar chair in Dr. Boyce’s office. The lack of presence from Dr. McCoy only bothered Jim for about a second, before he remembered why he was still mad at him. And he might have told his otherwise best friend a white lie, notifying him by text that his appointment time had changed without warning and really, he could go on his own. He’d catch him up later.

Maybe.

The exam just prior to the office meeting had felt highly impersonal as Dr. Spock had examined with a careful eye the incision as it continued to heal. The staples were removed painlessly and steri-strips applied. They wouldn’t need scans of the pellets until more doses of chemo had been administered, so Jim was all good to go on that front. They had also taken blood, checking his levels to see if he was stable to have another dose of chemo.

Now Jim was all excited to find out his schedule and get on with life. He liked to be organized, even if once in a while spontaneous was good. Boredom was bad.

Dr. Boyce nodded slowly. “Work is acceptable. You aren’t contagious and never will be. But I must caution you as I would any one of my patients – chemotherapy decreases your immunity and your ability to fight off infections. In public, it can be difficult to escape a majority of the bugs that run around. A simple cold could prove deadly. Right now, your white blood cells are doing well. Simple precautions like staying away from those who are visibly sick, washing your hands religiously, and notifying me the second you feel ill, whether it is even just a simple cough or fever, will help keep you relatively clear of infection. A box of facial masks in your car, in your desk, and even at home would be helpful, along with hand sanitizer wherever you go. But yes, you may go back to work. I don’t see why not.”

Jim smiled. “Thank you, really, thank you.”

“Do keep in mind that you may experience more side effects of the chemo as you get more doses. Right now you feel fine, but you may get some residual effects once the medications peak occurs. Many chemotherapy medications have a peak of 14 to 28 days. Your specific medications had a combined peak of 14 to 21 days, so you may begin to feel more side effects here soon. Take it easy, and don’t push yourself.”

“Understood, Doctor.”

“All right, I’m sure you want to set up some semblance of a schedule. At this time, you’ve handled your first chemotherapy dose well. I want to be able to introduce another medication during your first outpatient appointment, along with your next dose. Any specific days of the week you feel up to having your chemo?”

Jim contemplated that question. “The first dose was on a Friday. I would have the weekend to recuperate after the initial administration if I went with Fridays. I could also manage a normal schedule that way, with little disruptions during my week.”

“Friday sounds like a good day. I will set you up to begin this Friday with your double chemo, and next Friday just your IV drip chemo, and the week after that another double chemo. You will have a bi-weekly cycle. We’ll try the cycle out a few times and determine a good time to repeat a few tests like the PET scan and MRI and see how well the treatments are attacking your cancer.”

Jim nodded. “And radiation treatments?”

“Yes, those. You already have another 11 weeks to go, and I would like you to have 5 days in a row each week. Excluding Friday, and Saturday, I believe that leaves Sunday through Thursday.”

“Can I do evenings?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. I think that would work best. Mornings are fine this week because of Spring Break, but once school starts on Monday, I’ll be up and in class.”

“One more thing, now that we have a good set up – before each chemo session, you need to have your counts checked. I won’t allow you to have a chemo treatment if you are not at appropriate levels to handle another dose. Your white blood cells, your red blood cells, your hematocrit, your potassium, your sodium, and your kidney function blood tests all need to be within normal range each time. Sometimes these will fluctuate at no fault to your own care, but because your body is reacting to the chemo. It’s why I want it checked every week. Usually people get them checked the day before or the day of chemo. I would like you to try to get your blood drawn here at the office the day before, so every Thursday. If it so happens that your counts are not normal, we’ll monitor your status and encourage appropriate interventions to bring up whichever value is low. In some cases, it may be just diet that needs adjusting. In other cases, we may have to introduce another medication or we may even prolong the time you have to recover between each dose. This is also dependent on the side effects you experience.”

 _This is crazy complicated_. “Okay, yeah, I – uh, how early can I get my blood drawn?”

“Seven in the morning.”

“That should work. I can stop by here on my way to work on Thursdays.”

Dr. Boyce nodded. “Excellent. I will send your schedule off to the cancer center and on Friday you will have a formalized sheet with tentative dates. They may change. Always be on the alert for changes. For now though, we will stick with this. Your levels today look good, so you may have your chemo treatment on Friday. And I think that covers everything.”

“Yup. Thank you, Dr. Boyce,” Jim said kindly as he stood, ready to leave. “Oh, and tell Spock I’ll see around sometime?”

Dr. Boyce managed a laugh. “You might want to reconsider that.”

Jim just shook his head as he laughed. _Woops, of course. Surgery is a thing of the past!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: my editing SUCKSSSS!!!
> 
> 2: I'm trying so hard to remember their bromance is the most epic thing ever. *attempts to involve more personal scenes, instead of medical*
> 
> 3: I have no idea if a Hazelnut mocha with nutmeg and cinnamon even tastes good. I just made it up, lol! I'm not a crazy coffee person, and I'm even less of a Starbucks fan... so....
> 
> 4: uh, I think that's it... lol.


	9. That's What Friends are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finally breaks. Life takes on a normal routine. School heats up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day?!! I was on a roll, what can I say. Even though, I expect it will be a while before the next chapter. I work the next five days, ugh. And I tend to sit and write a whole chapter at once. 
> 
> Anyway, we are coming REALLY close now to the prologue. (don't be fooled by a certain paragraph in this chapter, we haven't reached it yet. I still got one more thing to get over in terms of the Jim & Bones show before we reach the prologue - the piece of writing that started this WHOLE FANFIC!) And then of course, I will pass the prologue... into unknown territory. How I end this fanfic is anybodies guess at this point!
> 
> Which, honestly - I'm not sure how I want it to end. Either with a happy ending or a bucket load of angst. My muse is still conflicted.

The last few days of ‘freedom’ passed by in a blur of lesson plans, radiation treatments, and misplaced cell phones. It was all the better for Jim, really.

He didn’t mind being alone on his first trek to the cancer center for chemotherapy, where the first drug was not IV drip, but IV push. The nurse, a new transplant to the oncology world, was being trained by a more seasoned nurse, and Jim let them have at it. It didn’t hurt, and it went by smoothly. He didn’t throw up, didn’t hurt, and really made a lot of head way on his ideas for Fall Semester. He was thinking ahead because it felt good to put plans out further than next week, or even May.

It was a bit boring while his red-orange chemo dripped into him. It had taken over four hours the last time, and it took exactly the same time this session.

But Jim took it. He was trying to prove a point. One where Leonard McCoy wasn’t in the picture and didn’t _need_ to be.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, Jim was feeling ecstatic. No side effects. Nothing. He was eating well, drinking well, no nausea, no irritating skin problems, and he wasn’t fatigued in the slightest. Even the radiation wasn’t bothering him. Granted, his back was starting to bother him more often than not, but he had pain medication for that. Overall, he was feelingGREAT!

Until halfway through his Literature of the 20th Century class early that afternoon. The nausea hit him hard and fast. Thinking fast, he left his students to talk amongst themselves about his recent analogy and begin forming comparisons between the two books they had so far covered that semester. It was going to show up in an essay prompt, and there would be no getting out of it.

By the time Jim made it to the bathroom, his stomach was on a roll. He barely managed to slump to the ground in front of the toilet, that morning’s breakfast coming up without much effort.

 _Shit, shit, shit_ , Jim thought to himself as the vomiting finally passed five minutes later and the nausea died down to a low roar. _I can do this. Yes I can. Yes, yes I can._ He gave it a few minutes before managing to pick himself up off the floor, his legs feeling terribly weak, his back aching. _Ugh, what is going on_?

He took long enough at the sink to clean himself up, but in the process, he saw his image in the mirror. _My hair_. The spots where the external radiation was trying to decrease the tumors in his brain were thinning drastically. It didn’t look horrible – yet. Nearly panicking, Jim smoothed his hair down, attempting to cover the spots. The skin underneath looked red and it felt raw.

 _I’m a mess_.

He closed his eyes, leaning against the counter; he was desperate to put his forehead on the mirror and forget what was really happening to him.

But the door opened and Jim almost jumped out of his skin. One of his colleagues, Professor Peterson, gave him a normal smile, hardly acknowledging the fact Jim looked the worse for wear. Jim just hesitantly smiled back and left the bathroom, the nausea still rolling at the back of his mind.

He let class out early, his mind on the pills in his office. _I will not throw up; I will not go through this. I am FINE!_

By the time his next class, English 101, came up on his schedule, he was begging Uhura to take over. Just for the afternoon. She didn’t even question him. He thanked her as he left, his nausea once again overwhelming and threatening to turn into another epic vomiting session.

Jim got home, crawling into bed as his body protested the day’s activities. His back ached, even with the pain medication, and he felt a headache coming on. His stomach hated him.

_I want Bones…. But I can’t… I can’t ask him to come over._

Jim had never felt more isolated in his life as he started to cry into his pillow.

He spent the rest of the afternoon, all evening, and long into the night greeting his old familiar yellow rug on the floor of his bathroom as he continued to vomit and battle constant nausea. Sleep never really came that night.

* * *

McCoy hummed to himself as he made his usual breakfast of bacon and eggs, his phone sitting on the table. He almost willed it to ring with a call or vibrate with a text from Jim. It had been a week and while he had decided to obey Jim’s wishes to have some space (in so many words, that Tuesday text now received over a week ago had cut him to the core), he still wanted more than anything to make sure his best friend was doing all right. He didn’t know when Jim’s chemo appointments were nor if he had been allowed to go back to work. McCoy didn’t know _anything_ , and it was stressful not knowing.

He hadn’t even gone back to work yet. He was holding off until he knew whether he was going to be needed by his best friend, or if their continuing silence was going to be just that – a long lasting silence of _torture_. Plus, even if Jim came back to him, McCoy didn’t know his best friend’s treatment schedule. He couldn’t just jump back into his last known shift schedule and expect it to work well with whatever Jim’s treatment schedule was. There was just a lot of uncertainty, and McCoy didn’t like it.

So he did other things to occupy himself, like exercise, cleaning his apartment, visiting old friends, hanging out with colleagues, catching a few sports games at the local bars, and catching up on his medical journals. It was – lonely. Very lonely.

And all McCoy knew was that he could just pick up the phone and call Jim himself. Except he wanted Jim to be the first one to call or text. Because it was Jim who had been the one to say ‘stay away for right now, please’ – in, again, so many words. And it hurt knowing he had caused his friend pain.

The bacon was sizzling when the door buzzer went off. His eyebrows rose in surprised as he lifted the hot pan off the stove and onto a potholder nearby. He left his breakfast to answer the door, his surprise still evident on his face as he opened his door to find a shaking, almost _unrecognizable_ Jim standing before him.

“Uh… hi.”

“Hello, Jim.”

Jim paused, looking lost, hurt, and _sick_. “Look, I’m… I’m _sorry_. About being absent lately. I thought – I thought I could do this alone, but I – I can’t. I – I need your help.”

McCoy gestured into the living room, letting Jim in. “Anything, Jim. You know that.”

His best friend seemed to visibly wilt further as he stood in the middle of McCoy’s homey living room. “I want you to shave my head.”

All McCoy could do was nod, slowly and without emotional reaction. “Of course. Of course I’ll help you with that.”

“No, no… you don’t… Oh, Bones, I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to – to do this to us. I’m scared. I don’t want to lose my hair. I need your help. I just need to get it done and over with. And I’m so sick. I just – will you help me?”

Bones took the three strides necessary to reach his friend, his arms pulling a visibly breaking Jim into his embrace. “I will always be here for you, Jim. Always. I’m so sorry. I really am.” The only response he got were two whimpering sobs as Jim clung to his best friend just like he had when he had told him the horrible news of his cancer.

Jim didn’t know how long they stood there, hugging out their worst separation since – ever. They had never _not_ communicated for longer than a day or two and definitely never let a fight last longer than a few days. Now he had completely screwed up his only worthwhile friendship over – over _what_? A silly notion that Jim actually had someone else to rely on? Because he didn’t. He had no one else.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Jim wished that were true. “But I do. I… I located my mom.”

Bones let Jim pull out of his embrace as he gave his friend a scrutinizing eye. _Hair thinning. Dark eyes. No sleep. Nausea. Vomiting. It’s coming_. “Oh?”

“She… she didn’t care that I was sick. Which, I figured as much. But it… it hurt telling her I have cancer and she… she didn’t care. No one… no one really cares except you, Bones. I don’t have anyone else.”

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

“I called in sick today. I had… I had chemo on Friday. I felt good until yesterday afternoon. I’ve basically been throwing up for the past eighteen hours. I got some crackers down and it seemed to help. I just… I need to take control. You really would help me… shave my head?”

Bones nodded. “Of course.”

“Then… can we just get it over with?”

Fifteen minutes later, Jim was staring at his new hair do – or his _lack_ of a hair do. He ran a hand over his newly bald head, the three red spots along the left side of his head looking bright and out of place against the rest of his pale white head.

“We’ll need to get you some hats. With the rain right now, you’ll need to protect yourself. Plus it’s good to be prepared for the fall. It’ll come faster than we think.”

“Do you think I’ll still be bald by then?”

“I don’t know, Jim. Let’s take this one day at a time, okay?”

Jim nodded. His blue eyes shimmered in unshed tears as he gave his new look a try.

 _I look like I have cancer_.

_Oh, right, I do have cancer._

* * *

Once Jim and Bones had made up, things turned out to go much smoother.

Life took on an as normal routine as the pair could make it.

Jim went to work faithfully Monday through Thursday, even when he felt somewhat ill – the puking sessions never did quite phase out. Neither did the diarrhea episodes or the skin rashes (Bones had freaked out, thinking Jim was having an allergic reaction. Four hours later, Dr. Boyce came into the ER calming fears. It was a normal side effect of the chemo.) Chemo every Friday became Jim’s day of boredom, as he sat in a reclining chair for four to five hours, and then went home and slept, as it was basically his only day not pushing himself to do work or throwing up around his students. Every Sunday through Thursday, Jim patiently let a trained radiation technician irradiate his brain while lying on a highly uncomfortable steel table in hopes of conquering the tumors. He mostly had skin irritants from all the exposure. His memory stayed strong, his knowledge level unwavering. His mood fluctuated, but his emotions stayed appropriate. For the most part, his biggest complaint was the ever increasing nausea, and the awful back pain. It was an unending battle with his medications.    

Bones kind of went back to work. He took up a weekly shift in the ER on Wednesdays, and helped out in the clinic on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but otherwise he was there when Jim needed him.

And every Friday morning before chemo, without fail, Bones and Jim went to Coffee Perk and Jim would get a vanilla latte while Bones would experiment. Somewhere around the beginning of May he found he really liked caramel macchiatos and from that point on, he was always ordering them.

Jim started to actually feel like things were okay. He was still sick, he was still struggling with making it through each day, but he was alive. He went to work, went to his treatments, and went home. He had the best support anyone could ask for: Bones was always there when he needed him, day and night, without fail.

* * *

April turned into May and May turned into finals and graduation.

It became one of the most stressful months Jim had ever experienced. Of course, that ‘month’ turned into the week from hell, or so Jim would dub it looking back.

“So, I have to grade all of these papers, go to my MRI tomorrow, and on Wednesday I’m going to be out all day because of the PET scan – that’ll be fun. And I have blood tests on Thursday because Dr. Boyce wants to continue with chemo. And my English 101 class final is Wednesday, along with 20th Century Lit, which Uhura is gonna have to proctor both of them since I will be out, and Thursday is my English 102 class final and shit, the board wants to meet Thursday evening – I might have to reschedule my radiation appointments for the week because Wednesday and Thursday are OUT. Holy fuck, how do I manage this, Bones?” Jim let his forehead hit the table top as his students’ papers fluttered off the table onto the kitchen floor. Bones swooped in to pick them up as Jim whined.

“One day at a time. You can grade now and some tomorrow, rest up for Wednesday – this time _I_ will be there – and then continue on with Thursday and Friday.”

“And graduation is on Sunday. Did you know I have five seniors in my 20th Century Lit class? Yeah. Plus my senior seminar class. That doesn’t have a final, thank GOD. They turned in their final draft a week ago. Which I gave to Uhura to go over first before handing it to me. And grades are due in a week. FUCK!”

“Jim-“

“I know, I know! One day at a time. But you tell that to the registrar, who is going to be on my case. Just _watch._ Kathy is going to eat me alive.”

Bones sighed. “You have a valid excuse, ya know.”

“I don’t want to use it though. I’m still _me_.”

“Jim, there is nothing shameful in playing the sick card with this. You _are_ sick. Your week is going to be crazy enough. Between school, tests, and treatments, I’m amazed you are still going to make all the deadlines. I believe in you, I do, but remember that you have to take care of yourself. You are allowed to claim the sick card for once. It is completely appropriate to do so this time around.”

Jim scowled, picking himself up off the table, staring at his work. “I… I don’t want to though. So, time to get to work. Mind making me some coffee?”

“Sure. But I’m not leaving until I see you safely into bed with the blankets tucked around you.”

“DUDE, HOW SAPPY ARE YOU?!!”

* * *

Jim was sweating. He was sure it was because of the heat and the room and all the eyes on him as he sat in the school Board meeting that Thursday night, but he had a small worry he was getting sick. He almost wanted to snort at that fact. _Sick, hahaha! I_ am _sick!_

Murmurs were going around the room after he had said his peace on the matter at hand. The Board wanted to know if Jim would be back in the Fall, or if he was going to bow out. Apparently surviving the rest of Spring semester while also simultaneously going through chemo and radiation was a feat unheard of – but also the stage IV cancer diagnosis was making the Board and the faculty question his ability to continue teaching.

“Look, I realize you want to make contingency plans. My mortality is at risk here, I get that,” Jim said gently. He was handling this so much better than the rest of the people in the room that was for sure. “But I will be back in the Fall. I have no plans not to. I’m going to continue with treatments this summer and hopefully be up and running for the beginning of the semester in August. Don’t – don’t count me out yet. I’m not ready to start pushing the daisies.”

He knew he was getting frustrated looks, but he wasn’t going to leave. They couldn’t force him to give up a part of himself. He wasn’t even going to be teaching that summer – why couldn’t they at least give him the benefit of the doubt he could come back in the Fall fresh and ready to kick ass for the next calendar school year? Not to mention, he was their best English Literature teacher _at_ that University. Why would they want to lose him? Every single one of his classes was always full, even sometimes over filled. But he enjoyed it. He loved teaching. He had a good reputation and he was good at his job. They couldn’t count him out yet. It wasn’t fair.

“All right, Dr. Kirk. We will keep your standing in this institution as it is. However, at the first sign of any troubles, even over the summer, please notify us immediately.”

 _If you start to really die and can’t be saved, please tell us as soon as possible so we can fill your spot with a new, better professor!_ Jim wanted to punch something. Or someone.

He smiled as he stood. “Of course. Good evening.”

He was outside by the time the nausea hit. It wasn’t the chemo or the tests from the week or anything from his cancer. It was, well – it was him. Scared. Scared of the future.

“I will keep teaching. I have to. I won’t give up. Not – not because they want me to give up, either. I will keep going until I can’t anymore.”


	10. Every Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From doubts and sadness to joy and gratitude, every emotion is experienced on this journey.

The week of hell ended successfully and Jim found himself holed away in his bedroom, his laptop, blankets, and pillows his friends as Saturday afternoon bled into Saturday evening.

He was tired and aching everywhere, his back giving him the worst of the pain. He was tired of staring at words and using correction technique on everything. He was tired of feeling sick, and tired of being doubted. He just wanted to enjoy his job, enjoy his friends, and enjoy his life.

With a sigh, Jim shoved his laptop onto the other side of his bed and curled up around his pillows. He wasn’t due for another pain pill for another hour. He needed a distraction.

[Chess. My bedroom. Fifteen minutes?]

[I’ll be right there.]

He smiled. Maybe it wasn’t so bad having your best friend come at any time, day or night or shower moment. It was all at the push of a button from his phone.

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. McCoy was carrying coffee and the chess set from the living room into Jim’s bedroom, settling comfortably into a chair near Jim’s side of the bed. “You feeling okay?”

Jim shrugged. “I’m okay. Just some back pain.”

The chess board was set up and Jim happily accepted his vanilla latte. “You know me too well.”

Bones laughed. “Always. White or black?”

“Black.”

They played a few moves in silence before Jim broached the subject he really wanted to discuss with Bones. He sighed, feeling the pressure of his problems weigh down upon his shoulders with finality. “What… what do you think I should do if I get bad news on Monday?”

Bones contemplated his next move as he thought about what Jim was asking. He moved, knocking a pawn off the board. “You’ll listen to their advice and make your own valid decisions. And don’t forget that I’ll be there, so you can always lean on me for help.”

Jim nodded, making his own move on the board. “I ask only because… I’m… scared.”

Bones paused. He gently put a hand on Jim’s. “And it’s okay to be scared.”

“I had to convince the fucking School Board I was still fit to be one of their English professors. They want to find a replacement if I know I’m going to – to _die_.”

“They are assholes. Ignore them. I can’t say what will happen after Monday, Jim, but for now, you are doing really well. You are making future plans and that is a healthy action to do. Don’t give up. Keep holding onto your dreams, regardless of what is going on now. You can’t make any assumptions. You can only go off what you know now, and how you feel now.”

“I feel like crap.”

Bones managed a small smile as he made another move on the board, taking out one of Jim’s rooks.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go to Graduation tomorrow.”

His eyebrows rose as he gave Jim a skeptical look. “How do you feel about that decision?”

Jim found another pillow and brought it forward, hugging it close. “I don’t want to lose what I have. Graduation means change. Monday means change.”

“You don’t want to feel the loss.”

Jim nodded. “I don’t want to be doubted. My _life_ is at stake here! And no one… no one _cares_.”

“I do.”

“I know. I’m being an ass.”

“No, no you’re not. Jim, you have a right to be scared about what is coming. About what _might_ be coming. Graduation is scary. It is a time of change. But I know you – you wouldn’t miss your student’s graduating for anything.”

Jim sighed, making his own move on the chess board. “It’ll be a weird summer.”

“You have a weird way of changing subjects fast.”

“I hate you.” Jim threw one of his captured pieces at Bones’ face.

“I know.”

“Your turn.”

“I know.” Bones focused on the board, choosing his next move against his opponent.

“I’ll go to graduation. I’m just moping today. Hey, could you get me my oxycodone from the bathroom? I’m up for another pill.”

* * *

For a moment, all Jim could see were the hundreds of graduation gaps sitting in a sea of black, waiting with bated breath as he stood at the podium. He knew his duty at Graduation, but had still felt uneasy showing up. But that was behind him now. He was all pride and joy, especially with the task he was charged to do at that moment.

Every year, a graduating student in the field of English, Literature, or Languages at that same University was rewarded with a fellowship to that very English / Literature / Languages department. They were not notified until Graduation day, however, not every student applied, and not every student who applied wanted the position. Many already had fellowships or positions outside the University walls. The individual picked did get a hinting and an interview performed, along with two other likely applicable individuals.

In the end, it was the facility that voted on who received the fellowship, and also who was to give the happy news at Graduation. Somehow, Jim had been picked, despite his short comings that year.

“It is my privilege to present the Gerald H. Branston Fellowship of English, Literature, and Languages to one of our own graduating students. They have shown dedication to their field of study and excelled at the challenges presented to them during their four years here at this University. While I wish I could hand out multiples of these Fellowships to all my English and Literature seniors who sit before me, I do not get that kind of power.”

The crowd, both a mix of graduates and guests, laughed.

“Except I do get the power of seeing my students, from noisy Freshman in English 101 to Seniors in my Senior Seminar class dedicated to researching English, and occasionally Literature, at its finest, graduate with high marks and a passion for the writing, reading, and creation of the literary world.

“My Seniors would remark that they had a difficult last semester. Amongst the millions of drafts of over five papers, they had to work around, well, me. One particular senior went up and above the call of duty when I became unexpectedly sick. My teacher’s assistant, the lovely Nyota Uhura, braved the storm with grace, but not without the help of Hikaru Sulu. When papers that needed dedicated proofreading fell by the wayside as I braved multiple surgeries and debilitating side effects from medications, Mr. Sulu and Ms. Uhura took up the duties I could not get to in time. Not only did Mr. Sulu manage helping out in a huge way when things almost went south, he managed a 4.0 through-out his college career. It is my great pleasure to award this year’s Fellowship to graduating senior Mr. Hikaru Sulu.”

The applause was deafening.

It was a privilege to hand out the Fellowship for the coming academic year. It was Jim’s hope to get to work with Mr. Sulu in the coming months – after summer semester, of course.

After the Fellowship presentation came a multitude of scholarship and other important things that were given by many other speakers and presenters, and Jim sat back and let the happiness flood him.

Graduation was a happy occasion. A joyous mark of a journey finished and a new one that was about to begin. It gave Jim a sense of hope. Things could look up – they _had_ that potential.

* * *

The sound of the clock on the wall behind Dr. Boyce’s head was grating on Jim’s nerves. Bones wasn’t helping, trying to calm Jim down.

“He’ll be in soon. You aren’t his only patient.”

“He’s late by fifteen minutes. Something is wrong.”

Bones rolled his eyes. Doctors really didn’t have set schedules, even if oncologists more or less had a set office schedule. Emergency room doctors didn’t.

The door finally opened two minutes later and Dr. Boyce walked in – followed by Dr. Spock.

“Sorry about the wait. I needed to talk with Dr. Spock about a development. Mr. Kirk, I will come out with the bad news first.” Dr. Boyce took his normal seat, Dr. Spock standing to the side of the desk per norm. Jim could only assume the bad news was either about his radiation pellets or the fact he needed more surgery.

“Your left kidney function is below normal and the cancer is moving in directions away from the kidney. The way the body filters through the kidneys, the cancer can latch onto any cell from its position. It could spread without even trying. The chemotherapy isn’t cutting it. The only way to stop its progression is to take it out, along with all other affected areas, including the ureter connected to the left kidney. If we do not take the kidney out, the cancer will continue to spread. However, your PET scan shows no other new areas of metastasis. Your brain mets look stable, and you have had remarkable improvement around your spinal tumor. The radiation pellets have decreased dramatically by this point to do much more good, and it would be advisable to begin external radiation.”

Jim wanted to throw up. He kept his voice calm though as he asked the defining question on everybody’s minds. “So… so I need to get my kidney taken out.”

“Yes.”

“And the chemo was – was only for my kidney.”

“We don’t know for sure. Chemo may continue to do well in helping your spinal tumor, however it does not seem to be reaching your brain mets. On another side, chemotherapy with only one kidney can be dangerous. Your ability to filter the caustic drugs would be severely diminished and the side effects would multiple exponentially.”

“So I would just get sicker without the added benefit of getting better, since it seems the chemo stopped nothing from continuing to grow and spread.”

Dr. Boyce nodded. “Radiation seems to be our main treatment right now. However, I do not suggest forgoing chemotherapy. The cancer has not advanced further. It may just take some adjustment in dosing and the type of drug to keep it at bay. We will adjust accordingly, also, if you decide to remove the offending kidney.”

Dr. Spock cleared his throat. “Dr. Boyce consulted with me and I do agree that removing the left kidney would be beneficial to your goal of maintaining your health for as long as you can.”

Jim gulped. “I’m not going to beat this?”

“Dr. Kirk – Jim – if we can achieve some more good news in regards to your cancer, you could live a few good years, maybe even five or six, before a slow decline. It is all about managing the tumors.”

“But I will never achieve remission or be free of this – this _disease_.”

“It would seem we may have led you down that path of belief. I am so sorry, but that is not the case. I never intended to lead you down a misguided thought process. In the case of stage IV spinal cancer, we do not have enough information to treat it effectively to achieve a cure. Remission, yes. In your case, and I will be honest with you about this, remission does not seem likely. You will not win against it. But you can manage it. And you can live a full life.”

“And five or six years is considered a ‘full life’?” Jim stood up, feeling like his options were limited. He was going to _die_. They were going to take his kidney and irradiate him until he was a prune. _I don’t want to die. I want to teach my students and grade papers and place chess with Bones and get married and – have a family. I will never have a family._

“Jim,” Bones grabbed his friend’s hand, squeezing it tight. “We should talk about this.”

“No. I – not right now. I –“ Jim felt like he was breaking. “I need some time to think about what you’ve told me. Thank you for your time, Dr. Boyce. I will contact you when I’ve made my decision.”

“Dr. Kirk-“

Jim ignored everyone and walked out of the office. Bones wanted to follow, but Dr. Boyce stopped him.

“Dr. McCoy, you should know that we weren’t really giving him a decision about this.”

“He should have one.”

“He needs to have the kidney taken out.”

“He gets to control this – the decision about removing a body part or not is a part of that. He gets to choose when he wants to give up.”

Dr. Boyce just nodded, giving Dr. McCoy a sad look.

Bones quickly left, racing after Jim. But by the time Bones made it outside the oncology complex, his best friend was gone.

“Oh Jim.”

* * *

Bones found Jim four hours later at his friend’s apartment, curled up under his covers, asleep, tear stains evident on his red-tinged cheeks. He had taken quite the emotional beating at his appointment, hearing depressing news. Bones knew Jim needed all the love and support he could get.

Without waking him, Bones went to start cleaning up the apartment, picking up books and papers and grading material. Jim would finish on time; there was no doubt in McCoy’s mind about that fact. Jim was a miracle, and no matter what he chose to do, he would continue living on and moving forward.

After cleaning, Bones moved onto making tea, coffee, and a concoction of comfort food. He was just letting time pass, waiting for Jim to wake up on his own. Waiting for Jim to start the conversation.

Thirty minutes later he heard the sounds of a toilet flushing, but Jim didn’t come out. Walking quietly into Jim’s bedroom, he noted the pink basin was not where it had been left early that morning upon inspection and the conclusion that Jim was feeling poor came upon him in an instant.

The bathroom light was on and Bones found Jim leaning against the toilet, his pallor tinged green.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jim mumbled, looking exhausted and depressed. It was almost like he had given up – given up the fight and the hope they had worked hard to keep alive.

Bones knelt, giving Jim’s back a soft stroke. “No need to be sorry.”

Jim looked away dejected. “I’m going to die.”

“No, you’re not.”

“They want to take my kidney out. They – they fear it might spread to the other one. My brain looks like hell. The only good thing about all this shit was the radiation on my spine. And now I need more. I’m not getting well.”

“Jim-“

“Stage four. I have stage four cancer. I can’t – I _believed_ I would get better. By throwing up and having orange pee and fuck, the back pain is awful. And now I need more surgery and – what about in the Fall? What about then? Maybe they were right. I’m not right to keep teaching.”

Bones put a finger to Jim’s lips, shushing him. “Remember what I said about future plans? Don’t lose hope. Don’t give up. They – they can take out your kidney to prevent it from spreading further and you can continue the same treatment you’ve been having. And you can live life to its fullest now. You could get years, Jim. It’ll –“

“Do NOT say it will work out! I’m going to lose my kidney. You heard him. Only having the one kidney would make the chemo worse. How much worse can this get? Throwing up for days on end, not a hair on my _body_ , and the worst bone pain on the planet? And my back is killing me. Please, I just – I don’t want to die! Why do I have to die?!”

He was losing an already-lost battle, and Bones knew that. He knew they needed a solid plan, but he couldn’t give one to Jim. He couldn’t give him a definitive ‘live or die’ answer, and not right now. For all they knew, Jim could be the miracle and live till he was eighty five. They just didn’t _know_. It didn’t work like that. But what he could give was love and support. And a lot of it. Bones gently wrapped Jim up in another hug as his best friend began to cry for what was probably the second or third time that day. Jim didn’t pull away, but he didn’t speak. Neither did Bones.

After a while, Jim crawled out of the embrace and sighed heavily. “I… I know you’re right. I’m sorry. I… I’m just scared is all. But I need to get this done. Need to move on in life.”

“I’m here with you, every step of the way.”

“I know. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Never.”

“I guess… I finish my grading and then… schedule surgery…”

“I will trust in whatever decision you make, Jim.”

“I want to live, somehow, someway.”


	11. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a wild summer. But don't expect the fuzzy, happy feelings to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the month wait. I literally had no time to write. I tend to write a chapter at a time, and between work and school, I have not been able to focus. It is now Spring Break at school, but I cannot guarantee finishing the fanfic before school starts up again. I'm going to try!
> 
> Unbeta-ed. Don't own anything or anyone.

Bones gently brushed a stray hair out of Jim’s face, sighing.

The surgery had gone just as planned three days after grades were due. It had taken ninety minutes with minimal side effects, the offending kidney taken out and the area inspected, tissue samples taken. Scans could only do so much. Now all Jim had to do was wake up and act like a normal human being (ha, get real). And get his fever down. A daunting task, really. Jim happened to be allergic to a few, well-known medications and it didn’t help that the anesthesia used during the surgery tended to keep Jim in a controlled sleep longer than it needed to, even _after_ the antidote was given.

So that’s what Bones was doing at that moment, sitting in the PACU waiting for his best friend to finally wake up. So far, no signs of such a thing were happening.

 _Maybe he is just extra tired. Or something. The bastard would do this to me, make me worry_. “Come on, Jim.” _Like we need more complications. Just one miracle, dummy. WAKE UP!_

The nurse appeared, recording another set of vitals on the thirty minute mark almost two hours since the surgery had finished. “He’s not the first to sleep for this long. At least he’s not throwing up.”

Bones snorted. “He gets enough of that, I promise.” He didn’t care to elaborate further, whether she knew what he meant or not. He let her continue her work in peace and she quietly left, leaving him to ponder what exactly was up with his best friend.

“I mean, really. I’m _bored_. And no, the nurses aren’t all that cute right now. Sorry. They are all about twice my age and continuing to get older. And now I’m rambling, thank you, idiot. Surgery went well. You’re going to be okay. School is out for the summer. Things are gonna go _great_.”

“B _ones_?” It came out slurred and whispered, as if Jim had no idea what exactly he was trying to communicate.

“Hi, buddy,” he smiled bright as Jim’s eyes fluttered open. Hearing was always the first thing to come around.

“’m tirrrredddd,” Jim mumbled, closing his eyes again and seeming to sink further into the highly uncomfortable bed.

“You are just a rare of sunshine,” Bones muttered. Of course he would stick around. He kind of had to. He was the designated driver whenever they got to leave. Seeing as Jim hadn’t woken up fully yet, nor peed, nor drank anything, they wouldn’t make it out of same day surgery before dark.

So he sat there, pulling out his phone in hopes of killing the boredom.

_It is gonna be a fun summer if he keeps up this sleeping act._

* * *

Jim was set free to wreck havoc on the world a few hours later (after finally waking up and realizing ‘oh shit, this fucking sucks’) and summer vacation started in a blur.

Treatment seemed almost daily as radiation took place Saturday through Thursday, and every Friday was another dose of chemotherapy. It was a constant battle of managing symptoms and keeping a normal schedule. The nausea dissipated quickly and was far less detrimental on the new chemotherapy, but it was the crippling bone pain and headaches that really stopped Jim in his tracks. For days on end, as soon as he was free from the awful radiation treatment room, he was back in his bed, curled in a ball, timing his pain pills almost to the second. Dr. Boyce prescribed migraine medications and different, sometimes experimental pain medications that put Jim asleep for hours at an end. The bone pain settled mostly in his spine and made standing for long periods of time difficult and a force to be reckoned with. He preferred walking to standing, and, if he could, lying down was better than sitting. It was halfway through the summer when Jim received another check-up and it gave him hope – nothing had grown, everything was ‘stable’ and he was tolerating chemo with one kidney. It was by a stroke of luck that his next scheduled check-up made it onto the calendar a week before school started again.

All the while, Bones was right beside him during this time, helping manage a pain medication schedule and keep Jim was going completely and utterly crazy. He went to work every Tuesday and Wednesday, hoping to keep a reputation with Starfleet Medical and the local medical school, as he was anxious to begin teaching there that Fall. The news had come just as Jim’s kidney extraction surgery had been finalized. In a span of a week, Jim had been facing disaster as Bones saw his future come alive. It was a difficult road, but they both knew they had something to live for. Jim wanted to keep teaching. He just had to make it through the summer. They both had to make it through the summer.

They spent every Thursday evening at Coffee Perk, playing chess when Jim felt up to it, and drinking the one thing Jim forever loved: coffee. The summer baristas got to know them personally, and every Friday morning they got their drinks and headed to Jim’s chemotherapy appointment. In between all the pain and coffee, Jim planned for Fall. He was ready to show the University what he was made of – in every way.

All in all, the routine became a staple to Jim’s life. It was the only thing good about everything that was going wrong.

It could be said that the pain was about the worst he felt that summer, but it wasn’t. While the physical pain took weeks to control, and the routine was a blessing in disguise, it was during that summer that his emotional and mental capacities took a hard beating.

It came in the form of one Carol Marcus.

In an emotional upheaval involving significant others and a family, Jim attempted to begin dating again. However, he was in no suitable physical condition to go out and party – alcohol was strictly forbidden while receiving chemotherapy and radiation treatment. So, with partying, bars, and the local scene completely out of the picture, Jim resorted to a more familiar area: old girlfriends.

Carol hadn’t exactly been very interested in his health since his cancer diagnosis – she had even been the first one to know anything in this extremely harrowing journey. But, with a bit of charm and a whole lot of smile, Jim convinced her to at least go out on a date – or two.

The date itself was fine. It was the aftermath.

The tears, the fears, the ‘it isn’t you, it’s me’, and Jim didn’t even want to talk about the sex. He didn’t even need to explain it to Bones – he wasn’t going to. It had been awful, and that was about the extent of his pain. Carol left him in a crying mess, and he was left trying to grapple around the reality of never actually having another girlfriend again – and he wasn’t even sure if it had to do with his lack of sexual desire.

Because, in the end, Jim figured he was empty. Empty of everything. He grew solemn and distant. He put all his focus into his treatment, his health, and his upcoming Fall semester. He was _going_ to get better.

He just wished he didn’t have to have the heartbreak along with it.

* * *

“How is it you have such bad luck with PET scans?” Bones was musing over the phone with Jim as he sat in the waiting room of Dr. Boyce’s office. School was starting back in just over a week and Jim was feeling – okay. Not perfect, but okay. “Because, you may be allergic to the dye, but they can, you know, use another _dye_.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure. I haven’t asked. Maybe I won’t need another PET scan, ever?”

“Good luck with that one, kid. I have to get back out there. Stay safe. I’ll see you at home tonight and we’ll talk.”

“Later, Bones.”

They mutually hung up their own ends of the call just as the overbearing nurse called his name. Unfortunately, it was pretty pointless, as there was no one else in the waiting room.

Jim went through the check-in process swiftly and ended up waiting in Dr. Boyce’s office for five minutes before his oncologist entered alone.

“Dr. Kirk.”

“Please, call me Jim.”

Dr. Boyce looked – older. More tired. He took his seat and sighed. “Jim, I will be honest with you, I do not have good news.”

The smile that may or may not have been on Jim’s face was gone by this time. He felt the regret growing in the pit of his stomach. _Uh oh_.

“The PET scan lit up in multiple places. Here, let me show you.” He pulled up a file on the nearby laptop and revealed a brightly colored picture with an outline of a body.

 _My body_ ,Jim thought grimly. “What – what does that mean?”

“It is in your bone marrow. I could test your bone marrow, but I feel that would be detrimental. It’s a painful test, and I feel you don’t need that pain right now.”

“Th-th-thank you.”

Dr. Boyce sighed again. “With this bad news, I believe it is prudent to tell you that it is likely the chemo is no longer effective. It is also not worth continuing to stress your one viable kidney at this time. It needs rest. Your blood tests are showing the pre-cursor to failure, and I will not allow that to happen. I believe your chemotherapy treatment at this time is over. I must say, that while your spine looks stable and your brain mets are also stable, the fact that your bone marrow has been invaded means your prognosis has advanced even further.”

“To stage five?” Jim tired to joke, but even he knew that there was no stage five. He already had the worst you could get – stage IV was a death sentence. _I fooled myself into thinking I was going to be okay._

“Hmm, if only we could count it like that. No, I say this because I believe radiation may be your only option left. You may continue with radiation at your choice. You may even continue on chemotherapy if you choose, however I advise against that as to your remaining health at this time is precarious to the choice of not going back on chemotherapy. A third option would be to end all treatment. Any choice you choose will not be easy, and I advise you to think about your choices and choose as you wish in your own time. You may call me when you have decided.”

Jim nodded numbly. He didn’t care to speak. Didn’t dare speak.

_I’m going to die. I am done for. I have lit up like a Christmas tree and am never going to survive this. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._

* * *

The glass shattered against the wall.

In a fit of frustration and fear, with added tears, Jim had smashed the crystal glass against the wall. He would have broken down and started drinking any alcohol he could find, but his home was alcohol free and Bones was on his way home, a frantic message of pain and anguish all inside a tiny message on his voicemail.

It had been a horrible day alone, and Jim felt somewhat suicidal. If he was going to die, he wanted to die on his own time. The glass shards look almost inviting.

Why not?

“NO, NO, PUT IT DOWN!” Came the voice of reason a few minutes later, hands holding his wrists, eyes looking frightened, on the edge of insanity. “What are you doing?!”

Jim hadn’t even started to cut himself; he had just picked up one of the pieces to inspect it. He was a mess, and he knew it. “Contemplating my end.”

“Damn it, Jim – no, okay, we need to talk.”

“We’ve talked. They told me what is going to happen.”

“ _Jim_ -“

“I’m going to die. Slowly. Bones – haha, oh that’s rich.” Jim smirked, realizing what he was saying. Then he shook his head, refocusing on his rant. “It’s in _my_ bones. It is now in my bones, and I cannot be saved. They told me as much. I can – fuck, they think radiation might still be good for me. But how? How? School is next week and I’m going to _die_. They are going to fire me because I’m sick. I don’t want to let go yet. I’m not ready!”

Bones, in a moment of pure reaction, scooped Jim up in his arms and carried him into the bedroom. Once Jim was settled under the covers, Jim took a seat in the ever-convenient chair set up next to Jim’s side of the bed.

He cleared his throat and gave Jim a good, hard look. “Bad news, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Does that include slitting your wrists?”

“No.”

“Good.” Bones looked pretty satisfied with himself and leaned back in the chair. “Look, I know the bad news seems suffocating. We had a pretty good summer on good news, other than your aches and pains and relationship status.”

Jim groaned, burying his head under the covers.

“BUT – I wasn’t there. So you have to explain to me what they told you and what you want to do.”

 _Radiation. No more chemo. Or just – nothing. Absolutely nothing._ “It has spread to my bones, which makes it difficult to treat. Dr. Boyce doesn’t want to do any more chemo. Just radiation. My brain scans look stable. My spine looks better. But everything will only attempt to give me another year at the most. And I just…. I want to teach. That’s all I want. But I don’t want to die before being ready to give up.”

Bones nodded in time with Jim’s story. “So they want to do radiation fully?”

Jim peeked his head back out and nodded. “It isn’t… so bad. But I’m scared. I’m scared to die.”

“But you aren’t going to die tomorrow, Jim. You’ve got time. I know – I know death is scary, but you still have time to settle your affairs. You can continue to fight. This isn’t over. Not yet.”

 _Just not yet, please… just not yet_. “Yeah… and the school board is going to fire me.”

“Don’t tell them. Keep a normal face in front of your students and peers. And when you feel ready, give them your notice and bow out gracefully. But do it on your own terms, Jim. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow, and it doesn’t have to be next month. Do it when you feel ready. That’s the part about being in control of your own destiny. Choose what you want. Not what the doctors are telling you, not what the school board is telling you, and definitely not what I am telling you.”

“But you-“

“JIM!”

The pillow that managed to hit Bones square in the face hadn’t been all that much of a surprise, frankly. And Bones knew Jim was going to be okay. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the PROLOGUE HAS PASSED!
> 
> Now into completely uncharted territory....


	12. Anger Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School is in full swing. Jim learns his limits physically and emotionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to take it slower now that we all know it won't be a very happy ending :( Sorry. I hope you stick with me until the end! Thanks! :)

Two weeks. Dr. Boyce got his answer two weeks later.

School started with a flurry of activity as Jim got settled back into the swing of handling a full class load and catering to what he loved most: his students. The summer had been long and torturous without the distraction of school, and now that it was back, it was all Jim focused on. 

So by the time the weekend came after the first week of school came to a close, Jim knew he had to make a decision. And what better timing could now be then to discuss it with his best friend at dinner? 

“So… What would you say if I told you I knew what I wanted to do in regards to my cancer?” 

Bones looked up from his seat across the table, eyebrows raised in expectation. “And?” 

Jim took a deep breath. “I think I want to try just radiation for a while. It could help. Plus it seems to be working on my brain, so as long as I can manage my symptoms, I should be okay. And it won’t be chemo, so I won’t be throwing up all over the place. No one even has to know.” 

Bones smiled. “I’m proud of you Jim.” 

“Don’t give me that.” 

“But I am. You aren’t fucking around with this, but you also are still working and managing a life outside of this diagnosis. And that’s a strength a lot of people wish they had. I’m sorry – about all of this. It isn’t fair, you are right. But you’re strong. And that is what makes you great.” 

He sighed and went back to his food. Jim wanted this, he wanted this so badly. “It won’t be easy though.” 

His best friend gave him a look and shrugged. “No, but your determination to keep going with your teaching is enough. I know you. Your students are going to thank you for that. Now, less talk about the depressing shit. How was your first week back at school?” 

The conversation hit up another high and Jim started animatedly discussing his students, his classes, and everything good in his life. And that’s what Bones needed to hear. The good stuff, not the bad stuff. They both got enough of the bad stuff to put them into early graves. It was bad enough that Jim was dying. How they both handled and lived out the rest of those days was up to them – and Bones didn’t want to cast it all in a negative light. The medical doctor in him knew the reality, but it wasn’t fair to drag Jim into the burning hell of reality also. He already had that problem. Now it was up to Bones to keep them both afloat as they figured out how the next few weeks and months would hold. It was anybody’s guess what would happen. 

# \---------

“Ouch,” Jim muttered as he lowered himself into his office chair. Everything ached and his skin felt tender. He’d shaken hands with the last individual who had stopped by during office hours and now had decided he needed a break. A nearby water bottle sat half empty on a coaster while a half dozen graded and ungraded papers graced his desk top. He figured he could grade some and then head out. That break meant no interruptions from humans. He was a bit tired and still had some time to waste before heading to the hospital for his daily irradiation. 

He looked like he’d acquired a mild sunburn – mostly because he quite literally had. While he’d grown accustomed to the patch along his spine and the three areas on his head, having his whole body irradiated to hopefully alleviate the pain in his bones and muscles created far bigger problems. Like the feeling he was itching and burning in a few too many places all at once. The fact he could only wash gently with mild, unscented soap and it didn’t help _at all._ His clothes were almost inappropriate as an English Professor because of his need to have only certain fabrics up against his skin. In a fit of frustration to fit professional standards, he’d layered up – and it wasn’t helping his hydration status. He was having to drink twelve to fourteen water bottles in a day to even begin to feel hydrated – and don’t even ask him about the peeing. Bones worried like a wart and was constantly checking up via texts and phone calls, and occasional drop-ins to class. 

However, that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was the sores. Sores on his feet where his shoes chaffed. His nose and ears took a beating when he wore his reading glasses (his eyes had taken a turn and he was having difficulty reading his papers). He had to stop wearing his watch because it drove him crazy against his skin and created a sore that didn’t go away for two weeks. And the mouth sores were almost unbearable. It made his need to keep drinking water that much more difficult. 

It was a constant battle of pain, irritation, and continuing to keep his routine. He didn’t give up on school, kept his self-defined deadlines, challenged his students, kept going to his radiation appointments every Monday through Friday once an evening, and made sure Bones didn’t feel left out. 

It had been almost two months since school had began and Jim had made the decision to keep up his battle solely with radiation treatments. Now, he wasn’t sure it was worth it. 

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, almost regretting it. His back was the worst at the moment. It’s been the source of his exposure the day before in treatment. They alternated each day the front and back sides of his body, and occasionally just focused on his head. They also kept special focus on his spinal tumor and his three brain mets. Overall, he was miserable. Classes hadn’t been easy that day and it was only Tuesday. 

The knock on the door didn’t help. 

He shook himself and sat up. “Come in!” he called, fighting back a yawn. He was destined to fall asleep on the table that night, he knew it. No matter how uncomfortable it was – metal as it was – he was tired. 

Three very official individuals walked in, the two males in some very expensive suits and the young woman in a very sleek green dress. Jim noted it accented her demeaning eyes all the more. He could feel the regret, anger, and fear boiling in him just below the surface. He knew what they were there for. 

He stood, smiling. “How may I help you?” He recognized the asshole on the right – his part in the School Board meeting in the Spring had been one of wishing Jim would leave and never come back. They all were willing him to die. 

“Dr. James T. Kirk, I am Dr. Harvey Eilersen, and these are my-“

“I know who you are, and I know why you are here. Let’s all skip the dumb introductions. Now, what I am curious about is why exactly you decide to flame me right in the middle of the semester? Couldn’t do it back in August when I was determined to stay in the game? Or you don’t want to kick a dying man when he’s already down? Because let’s face it, you already are going to kick me when I’m down, regardless if I am or am not down. Except, in truth, I’m not down. I am still alive, still breathing, still teaching. I am meeting every single standard this University holds dear to their heart, and I am exceeding that. All of my classes are full and all of my students are achieving great measures. I am not falling behind – I continue to keep up with my work. I have not called in sick one day. So you are either going to have to explain, in triplicate, why you decided to interrupt me now of all days and of all times, especially since my office hours ended ten minutes ago and I technically don’t have to be here. Because –“ Jim felt his back spasm and he couldn’t keep face any longer. He sat down in his chair with a grunt and a flash of pain and clenched his hands into fists. He just wanted it all to _end. Go away pain, please._

He finally unclenched and looked up to see two worried faces and one completely impassive face staring back at him. Jim held up a hand and sighed. “Yes, I’m sick. Yes, my stamina and my energy are near existent these days. But I’m not a cripple, and I can do my job. Now get on with what you want and maybe I’ll get out of here soon enough to make it to my scheduled radiation appointment.” 

The one who had started to make introductions finally broke the silence that lingered for what felt like forever. “We apologize, Dr. Kirk, for making it feel that we have inconvenienced you in anyway.” 

“As you have shown that you are adequate for the job, we will return at a later time.” 

Jim bit back a retort. _Come back? Oh fuck this. No._ “As you wish. Please, do, at your own convenience.” 

All three Board members turned and left without a single good-bye, leaving Jim to quickly pick up his work. He gathered it all into his messenger bag and headed out. The frustration and anger were still evident on his face even when he reached the cancer center at Starfleet Medical Center twenty minutes later. 

# \---------

The alcohol-free pina colada actually felt good on Jim’s sores. It also didn’t taste half bad. It was a treat from Bones after coming home from his treatment. 

Bones had been sitting on the couch when Jim had come home, slammed a few doors, dropped all his stuff, and then started full on yelling. 

“THEY ARE IDIOTS. IDIOTIC, BULLSHITTING PEOPLE WHO HOLD NO RESPECT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY PERSEVERE IN THE FACE OF DEATH!” The bedroom door slammed and Bones didn’t even get a chance to stand before Jim was yanking it open and continuing in his rant. “THEY CAME TO MY OFFICE TO ASK IF I WAS GOING TO QUIT YET. ‘OH, YEAH, I’M GONNA DIE NEXT MONDAY, I SHOULD MAKE SURE YOU HAVE TIME TO FIND ME A REPLACEMENT’ – YEAH, RIGHT!” 

He opened and slammed the fridge in epic frustration, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and the way his right ankle felt. He was tired, but he was so _mad!_

“So, I take it your day wasn’t all that great?” 

“DAMN IT, DAMN IT, FUCK IT ALL!” Jim was almost ready to kick anything – the couch, a nearby chair, the wall – when Bones’ hands came to rest on his shoulders. 

“Calm down, Jim. I know you want to vent your frustration, but you have tears in your eyes and I can see the pain in them. You’re mad, you’re hurting, and you had a small tussle with a few Board members. Sit on the couch, drink your non-alcoholic beverage, courtesy of me, and tell me everything that went on. I’ll get your pain meds.” 

Jim nodded stiffly and found a spot to curl up in, his hands clenched in fists. Bones had disappeared into the bedroom to get his pills and by the time he appeared, Jim was curiously inspecting the glass set out for him. 

“What is it?” 

Bones smiled. “Taste it and find out.” 

A few seconds later Bones had a rather content best friend sitting beside him, especially after his first sip of pina colada and a pain pill had been swallowed. 

“Okay, Jim. Now, in a few more words and a little less yelling, you can tell me what happened.” 

“Board members came by. I basically told them to fuck off because I’m doing fine. I cannot believe they came to my office outside of office hours, were lucky enough to catch me at a bad time – I was in a lot of pain – and think they can convince me to bow out gracefully. Ha, fuck them. I will work until the day I die if just to spite them.” 

Bones shook his head, laughing. “Knowing you, Jimbo, you would.” 

“God, I just hate them SO MUCH right now. Why do they do this to me?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Their agenda does not fit with yours.” 

“Yeah, mine is trying not to die tomorrow. At least I’m still alive.” 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” Bones whispered, wrapping an arm gently around Jim’s shoulders and squeezed with the barest of pressure. “Because I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“Obviously not bring me awesome drinks. You know I’ve never had this alcoholic before either?” 

“You are so fucking uncultured, Dr. Kirk.” 

“I’m an ENGLISH TEACHER!!!!” 


	13. Set Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week before Thanksgiving is when things start to take a turn for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Increased swearing!

_Seven thirty am Romanticism in British Literature. Remind me again why I agreed to this?_

Jim was finding himself at the end of rope, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Unlike the past summer when he found out he couldn’t handle another stringent relationship, this was more in tune with how much he needed a break from school. Thankfully, Thanksgiving break was coming up in a week. He’d still be grading, but not having to get up and go to class would be a refreshing change of scenery.

Plus, he’d taken up teaching a new class that semester: Romanticism in British Literature. It was kicking his ass, both because it was scheduled for fucking sunrise, and because it wasn’t in his normal range of classes to give. He did a lot – Shakespeare, English and Composition, 20th Century Literature, Banned Books, American Literature in both modern and 19th to 20th century, and senior seminar in the Spring. But British Romanticism was definitely new. His students were in love with the content – all eight of them. It almost had been cancelled, but Jim had stressed the fact it would be good on people’s resumes and helped create a broader course selection for English and/or Literature majors. So it had stuck – both the topic and the time.

Dropping his stuff at the front of the lecture hall, he pulled out his notes for the day and set them on the table. He was hoping to keep the lecture short and give way to a writing session and a discussion session. The class met for two hours every Monday and Thursday morning. It was an awful schedule, and while he should have just let it be cancelled (a mercy from the higher ups, really), he still stuck with it.

Already two students were sitting in the back, whispering and giggling. They all knew his policy – with only eight students, they all occupied the front row when class started. However, they were allowed to sit wherever they wanted, if they so choose before class actually began. He nodded at them in recognition as he reached for his water bottle still in his messenger bag. It was going to be another long teaching day.

Class started on time and seemed to crawl by. By the time his students were writing him a half page on their recent discussion about the current book they were halfway through ( _Frankenstein_ ), Jim was nursing a headache.

He took two Tylenol and continued through his day.

Half past eleven am in the morning that day, during his Shakespeare class, the headache seemed to intensify. The pounding in his head distracted him for only a brief second as he barely took note that his eye sight seemed to swim. He didn’t have enough time to register the fact something was wrong. So, as fate would have it, right in the middle of his lecture on _As You Like It_ , Jim collapsed, his legs and mind refusing to work together.

The class, a mixture of Sophomores and Juniors in various majors, jumped right into action. As three students attempted to check if he was all right, another two were quickly pulling out their phones, one dialing 911 as the other called another teacher that was a part of the English department faculty.

“Dr. Kirk? Dr. Jim? Are you awake? Can you hear us?”

“He’s still breathing.”

“He’s not opening up his eyes for me.”

“Damn it, I didn’t bring my blood pressure cuff and stethoscope today. But he’s got a pulse. It’s pretty fast.”

“Hi, yes, we have an emergency at the San Francisco State University, Cochrane Conservatory, Lecture Hall 231. Our teacher collapsed. No preceding symptoms mentioned or noted. He’s got cancer. He’s in his thirties.”

“Dr. Kirk collapsed in the middle of lecture. Someone is calling 911. Security should be notified. Amy is assessing him.”

And then one student got a very bright idea.

“We should find his phone.”

“Oh, yes, we should attempt to see if he wants us to call anyone.”

While searching for his phone, their brilliant 911 caller issued more instructions: “Okay, guys, emergency services are on their way. Keep him comfortable and monitor for any signs of waking up.”

“Found his phone! Um, he contacts someone named ‘Bones’ a lot? Think we should try them?”

“DO IT!”

Professor Sherrie Hepler was in the room in two second flat after a frantic student phone call. “What happened?”

“Dr. Kirk collapsed without warning. And he’s not answering any of our calls. Emergency Services are on their way.”

“Hi, is this Bones?”

“Everyone who isn’t being useful should and would do well to leave. Let’s give him as much space and privacy as possible. Class is cancelled until further notice.”

Per Professor Hepler’s announcement, most of the lecture hall cleared out as students murmured among themselves, finding that they had extra time on their hands. They hadn’t even been given any homework assignments by Dr. Kirk before he’d ended up on the floor.

“He collapsed. We’ve called 911. We’re waiting on them to arrive.”

“Think this could count as extra-curricular practice for my clinicals?”

“You would ask that kind of question.”

“Did he hurt himself?”

“No. But damn, that was sudden. Wonder if he’s going to be okay.”

“I see the ambulance.”

“Oh, hey, the ambulance is here. You want us to send him to Starfleet Medical? Okay, we can tell them that. I’ll give Professor Hepler the phone now.”

“Hello? Oh, Dr. McCoy. Yes, he’s safe. He’s still unconscious, however. The paramedics are walking in the door. I’ll travel with him. Meet you at the emergency room.”

In all under ten minutes, Jim was assessed and transported to Starfleet Medical while a handful of his students looked on. The day had started out normal and somehow had ended on a much more depressed note.

* * *

His obnoxious cell phone ring tone had been picked by Jim and Bones had no desire to figure out how to change it as he reached begrudgingly for his phone. He’d been napping. Why the hell anyone was calling him was beyond him. He didn’t have to teach at the medical school until tomorrow, didn’t work at Starfleet Medical until Thursday, and he wasn’t on call. _Jim_.

His strange round-about way of reaching that conclusion was right when he smiled and answered, “What?”

“Hi, is this Bones?”

 _That’s not Jim’s voice. But that’s my… nickname._ Bones was up out of bed and awake in two seconds flat. “Excuse me, who is this?”

“Um, I’m Erin. I’m one of Dr. Kirk’s students.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“He collapsed. We’ve called 911. We’re waiting on them to arrive.”

 _Oh fuck. Oh shit, oh shit, Jim’s in serious condition_. Every possible diagnosis and worst case scenario filtered through his mind as he heard the student on the other end continue to talk. “We were in class and he was lecturing and he just – collapsed. He didn’t hurt himself, but he’s not waking up.”

 _Unconscious. His brain. His tumors. Oh fuck. “_ You need to tell the paramedics to transport him to Starfleet Medical Center. I’m an ER doctor there; I can take over his case.”

“Oh, hey, the ambulance is here. You want us to send him to Starfleet Medical? Okay, we can tell them that. I’ll give Professor Hepler the phone now.”

Bones wanted to reach through the phone and smack someone for throwing him around so much, but he knew Professor Hepler. A nice woman, that was at least comforting.

As he heard the phones switch hands, he was quickly tugging on his shoes and grabbing his wallet. He had nothing else to go by – he realized in an instant that this was the first real emergency since Jim’s diagnosis and they hadn’t gone over any _wishes_. If Jim never woke up, if his heart stopped, if… if A LOT OF THINGS were to happen, life or death decisions would be handed over to his _mother_. The mother who didn’t CARE! And it was just their luck that Jim had never written out anything about whom he wanted as Power of Attorney or if he wanted CPR if he were to code or _any of that shit_. And somehow Bones had let it slip through his fingers. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, JIM! We fucked up_.

“Hello?”

“Professor, it’s McCoy.”

“Oh, Dr. McCoy!”

“Is he in safe hands?”

“Yes, he’s safe. He’s still unconscious, however. The paramedics are walking in the door.”

“Good. I need someone I trust to go with him. Will you do that for me? Go with him? I’ll meet you both there.”

“I’ll travel with him.”

“Awesome. See you in a few.”

“Meet you at the emergency room!”

And the phone line on both ends went dead.

Bones gathered up his hospital badge and anything else he thought he might need. Jim was in trouble, and he needed to make sure he was going to be okay.

With a last glance around his home, Bones was gone.

* * *

“Please, stop. I’m fine.”

“Fine? Excuse me, Jim, you fucking _collapsed_ in the middle of a lecture this morning. That does not qualify as ‘fine’!”

They found themselves on the third floor of Starfleet Medical at dinner time, Jim resting uneasily in the Medical-Surgical unit after having slowly come to in the emergency room, Bones’ ranting voice bringing back the headache that couldn’t seem to be tamed. After multiple tests, including a blood draw from the IV placed in his left hand (the PICC line had been taken out shortly after Jim’s decision to end his chemotherapy treatments. Taking it out had been much easier than putting it in) and an MRI, the decision had been made to observe him for the night on the Med-Surg floor. It had made Jim feel and act crabby and unhappy, but it had made Bones feel better, knowing Jim was in safe hands for the time being.

The Emergency Room doctor and Dr. Boyce both concluded that Jim had collapsed as a result of his brain tumors growing in size. It was a warning sign of more symptoms to come. The MRI had shown an increase in mass, which meant the tumors were no longer being controlled by the radiation treatments.

Jim was out of options. He just needed to decide what to do at that point. He wasn’t sure what to do yet.

Now Bones was fussing over his every move, making sure Jim didn’t have to do _anything_. No grading, no moving, definitely no _standing_ , and no _breathing_ it almost seemed. Bones had taken over the TV controls and was now busy arranging Jim’s dinner for him.

“I can move my arms, Bones. I don’t know what happened – they aren’t even sure what happened. But I’m not going to get worse by eating my dinner _myself_ ,” Jim stated with finality as he stole back his fork from Bones’ hand.

Bones sighed and sat. “Sorry. I know that, I do. I just – _you scared me_ , Jim.”

The food looked entirely unappetizing, but Jim hadn’t eaten anything all day and he needed to. He also sighed as he took a bit of the pasta from his plate. “Didn’t mean to. It kind of just – happened.”

“Your students went right into action, too. Professor Hepler mentioned that she didn’t even need to do anything. One of them was a nursing student, so they kind of initiated the whole thing.”

Jim smiled. “I can count on them for a lot, apparently.”

“Like saving your life.”

“I wasn’t going to die.”

“Could have.”

Jim pointed to himself. “Not dead!”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Which reminds me – we need to talk about a few things.”

“Like?”

“Advanced directive. End of life care. A POLST (Physician Orders for Life Sustaining Treatment), as soon as possible. Especially if Dr. Boyce believes what he’s told you today.”

Jim sighed. “Yeah, the tumors have probably grown.” Saying it made Jim’s stomach turn in protest. He hated to think he was going to lose his mind as the brain tumors advanced. But he knew the reality. They weren’t going to be stable forever. Radiation wasn’t always going to keep him from dying. It had been a means to an end. And that end was now.

“You know what you want to do yet?”

“No. Just… give me some time. I’m still digesting this set back.”

“Jim-“

“You said I need to – figure out end of life care and stuff. Well, just – I’ll do it. I know I need to. I’m not in denial of dying any longer. I just don’t want to die yet.”

“You almost could have today, Jim. Collapsing isn’t normal. Which is why, yes, we need to write up an Advanced Directive and fill out a POLST. Tomorrow morning at the latest. It doesn’t mean you’ll die tomorrow or the next day, but it does give everyone around you peace of mind for decisions when you no longer can make them yourself.”

Jim nodded and took another bite of his food. “Like you.”

“Maybe.”

“You are so bad at this.”

“I don’t want something bad to happen and the only person who can make any medical decisions for you is your mother, Jim.”

“Oh, god, wait, if I don’t figure this shit out my mom could be the one deciding what to do for me if I can’t?”

“She’s your only family, Jim.”

“FUCK, NO. NO, MY MOTHER IS NOT DECIDING ANYTHING FOR ME!”

Bones wanted to laugh at Jim’s express, but it was neither the time nor the topic to laugh. So he just nodded. “I understand that. Which is why we need to do this.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yup. Now eat. I’m going to go find your nurse. I think it is Ariel tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yup, so I've decided that 18 chapters SHOULD be the max, but that's just my estimation right now. The plot continues to thicken as more crap gets piled up onto Jim's poor fragile mind/body. He's not very lucky, is he?


	14. Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has a lot of decisions to make right now. He's feeling rather overrun with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made an ouchie! As a personal belief, every acronym should ALWAYS be first spelled out word for word before being used in any context – especially within unfamiliar backdrops within stories (I have read actor fanfics and still have no idea what half the story is about because someone didn’t spell out the acronym they use forty times in one chapter). I believe in doing this every single time. 
> 
> However, it has been brought to my attention that I totally forgot to do that exact thing with at least one acronym that isn’t widely known – and for that, I am SO sorry. It has been fixed and the whole fanfic scrutinized for such mistakes that I may have accidentally missed/forgotten about. My attention has been elsewhere. 
> 
> Please do NOT hesitate to ask when you don’t understand something. I’m trying to be consistent and as fact truthful as possible, however there is also a touch of suspended belief to go along, as I am only a nurse, and while my dream is Pediatric Oncology, I’m not even in a hospital setting, and a lot of the details are made up to fit my image of the story, even after careful research. So, yeah… enough of my rambling. Here is more ouchie from the emotional side of the fanfic!

The trip back to Jim’s apartment the next morning was quiet. Bones had stayed at the hospital all night and the gone home early in the morning to freshen up before coming back in time for discharge with a fucking _binder_ full of paperwork that he intended to unleash on Jim when they got home. Jim knew he needed to do it, but thinking about his impending demise and the fact he could likely wake up one day without the ability to make sound decisions for himself was not something he wanted to think about right then. He felt fine, but who knew what was next.

Jim was tucked into bed a few minutes later after arriving home and Bones was beside his bed, pen and papers strewn out across his lap and the bed.

“Okay, I get that you’re serious about this – I am too. But can we talk about something – about what this all means first?”

His best friend nodded and set the pen down. “Where would you like to start?”

“Well… maybe the fact that I’m out of options?”

“It certainly looks that way. Do you want to search for any other options?”

“I’m not sure. I… I had thought maybe the radiation could keep my symptoms at bay, give me more time. But it’s obviously stopped working. I – I think I want to just stop it all. I want my good days – and then nothing. It seems pointless to look into anything experimental when I’ve only got one kidney and it’s difficult to combat four tumors and invaded bone marrow. God, how am I not in more pain right now?”

Bones shrugged. “The body is a funny thing. You’ve also been on some intense pain medications that, somehow, and lord only knows _why,_ aren’t putting you to sleep every single time you take one.”

“Tolerance.”

“Again, lord only knows what’s up there.”

“Yeah, yeah. So… you’d be okay if I stopped trying?”

Bones grew quiet, contemplating what his best friend of all time was asking him. He nodded, slowly. “To be honest, I always figured the treatment would stop working at one point. And without the constant barge of treatments and symptoms to manage, you’d be better off to take your good days, as you say, and then having – nothing. The radiation would probably be palliative at best, and you’re already reaching your end on that, really. I’d be amiable to supporting you in your choice.

“And remember, Jim – I will support you in whatever you choose. This isn’t my choice. It is yours.”

“I know. I just wanted your opinion.”

“Of course.”

Jim fidgeted with the comforter, sighing. “So, basically, all these – all of these documents are saying what I want when I can no longer express my wishes?”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing to have covered, so immediate family members don’t have to guess. When you don’t talk about it, or barely say anything about it, their grief usually makes them do silly and harsh things to _you_. I have seen parents of their twenty eight year old daughter keep her alive long past her expectancy on a ventilator. I’ve also seen parents end it at the first sign of trouble. This gives you control. Allows you to say ‘yeah, if my heart stops, I want you to try, to give your ALL, to bring me back’ or ‘no, don’t bring me back. I’ve lived my life, I’ve suffered enough pain, I’m okay if you don’t try anything if my heart stops.’ It also gives you a chance to tell others if you want a certain type of treatment but not all the treatment. You want the IV fluids but not the ventilator? You got it. You want the plug to be pulled if you can’t be saved, just give me comfort measures? Say it. This gives you the power to tell others what you want. It also allows you to name someone who can make sound medical decisions for you when you can’t, even though you’re still alive and still functioning.”

“Are you afraid that will happen to me?”

He hesitated. _I’m afraid of what might become of you_. “A little. I don’t know what could possibly kill you first – the spinal tumor, the bone marrow invasion, or those ever growing brain tumors. But what I do know is that you’ve got a lot of variables, and a few of them are time sensitive.”

“Huh?”

“Jim, remember what Dr. Boyce told you about the spots where your tumors are?”

“Uh… it has been a while. Like, the areas?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I don’t… remember much of that conversation.”

Bones nodded. “I didn’t think you would. Well, the areas your tumors are situated control your emotions – your affect and how you treat situations. The appropriate response to a joke is to laugh, usually. The appropriate response to a tragic event is to feel sadness. With one of the tumors controlling that area of the brain, it is possible you could lose that ability to keep functioning at the appropriate social level. One of those bastards controls your memories. You may forget stuff – simple stuff, big stuff. Whether it is your short term memory or your long term memory, you may lose things you have worked hard to remember, and it is possible you could struggle to remember something that happened just moments before. The big stuff – you may forget how to cook a simple dish of food, or that you shouldn’t touch the hot burner or stick your hand in an electrical outlet. It seems silly now, but memories are stored in so many places, no one can predict what could happen. If this does happen – devil’s advocate right now, I know – then having someone to make safe, sound decisions for you would be best.”

Jim nodded. He curled up under the comforter and mumbled, “You, Bones. I would always choose you.”

“Hmmm, and I swore I thought I heard you say you wanted your mom to be in that position.”

Somehow, it was always the pillows that were flung into his face. “HEY!”

“GOD, YOU ARE INSUFFERABLE!”

Bones started to laugh, throwing the pillow back at Jim playfully. “I aim to piss you off.”

“Always. Now where do I sign?”

“Mr. I’m Serious Now – okay, hold on, before we sign, we gotta discuss and write down a few things. This could take a bit.”

“Fine by me.”

* * *

The seven thirty am Romanticism of British Literature still took place that Thursday morning as Jim returned to work completely, strolling into the lecture hall with a smile on his face. All eight of his students were already in their seats in the front row, quietly conversing with each other. It hadn’t even been their class that he’d collapsed in, however he figured news had reached the whole school that he’d been sent to the hospital.

“Welcome back, Dr. Kirk.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Will you be okay?”

He managed a brighter smile as he set his stuff on the table and promptly took a seat on the edge. “Thank you, it is good to be back. And yes, I feel much better. As for okay, that’s debatable.”

“A rumor is going around that the higher ups might fire you.”

Jim paused, letting that sink in. _They would do that to me, now that they know I’m sicker than I show on the outside._ He sighed and shook his head in dismay. “I’m pretty sure the backlash would be enough to disappoint them, at the least. However, any ideas of my termination should scurry out of your pretty little minds, my brilliant British Literature students. Get out _Frankenstein_ and if you would Aurora, please read the first two paragraphs of chapter twelve.”

His students went straight to work in obeying his requests.

He had trained them well.

* * *

“I have another headache.”

Jim heard a muffled ‘hmmmm’ on the other end of the line as Bones moved around in the break room at the clinic. He’d somehow gotten a call to cover the last shift of the night at the clinic that evening, and Jim was still sitting in his office at work.

“Becoming a common occurrence?”

Jim sighed. “Yeah. Good thing we filled out those documents a few days ago.”

“God, you are just a rare of sunshine today.”

“Bones, don’t.”

“Take another pain pill. Any other symptoms?”

“My eyes are killing me. I’m tired of looking at papers. The end of the semester might kill me.”

“Make your TA do it.”

Jim snorted. “I love Uhura, but haha, she’s got enough to do.” He paused, realizing something. “Bones?”

“Yeah?” A loud crash punctuated the phone call and Jim brought it away from his ear, giving it a look.

“You okay?”

“Yes, fine, just dumb machinery. Are you okay?”

He sighed again. “I think I’m about done with this – there is a rumor they want to fire me. Don’t know if it is true, but I saw a few Board members in my Shakespeare class this morning and I think they were worried I was going to collapse again. Those assholes. But, really, maybe I should just hand in my two weeks. I could finish out the semester and then just – ya know, be alone. Maybe that’s what is causing my headache. The stress.”

“Or your tumors are growing. Sorry, sorry, fucking doctor mode. Wait - hold on – did you just say you wanted to quit? Like, forever say good-bye to the University, to your students, to your dedication to the field of Literature and English?!”

Jim dropped his head onto the desk, his forehead pressed against its wood surface, holding the phone tightly and pushing it against his ear. “Yes, I said that. I feel like maybe I don’t have the energy for this anymore. I’m tired. And it would make the higher ups feel better about themselves. You know how much they want me gone.”

Another loud crash and some cursing. “Well, Jim, I will support you in whatever you choose. I know it can’t be an easy decision to make. Just remember that they aren’t actually out to get you.

“Hey, my break is about over, and I think I broke the coffee pot. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

Jim nodded and mumbled bye, setting the phone down with little care as it clattered on his desktop.

“Yup, I should give my two week’s notice.”

He resigned himself to losing his eyesight, his memories, and his tolerance for pain. He also resigned himself to the fact he was dying – and nothing was stopping his body from betraying him one symptom at a time.


	15. The Hardest Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regret comes in many forms. Jim just wishes it didn't have to be this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim is getting all sappy on me. Bb, I love you, but ahhhh no wonder I'm depressed?!!!
> 
> Anyway, my April priority: FINISH. THIS. FANFIC! Here goes nothing....

“Ready for finals week?” Bones didn’t hint that it would be Jim’s _last_ finals week _ever_. There was no need to. Jim wouldn’t shut up about the fact he almost regretted handing in his two weeks or the fact he was _terrified_ of whatever was about to come. His only symptoms were a daily headache. He was still intact, still breathing, still walking.

Jim shrugged as he set up the chess board. They had settled into their familiar seats at Coffee Perk after a crazy day at work for both of them. Jim had a million and one papers to grade and a test to create for a final coming up that week, and Bones was taking on more and more work as finals week at the medical school started and the hospital was craving his expertise. So as the sun set that cold December Sunday evening, they played a few games of chess and chatted. The week would come and they would be ready – come hell or high water.

“I think I’ll just be glad when grades are handed in. Nyota is doing really well with shadowing me and honestly, other than the grading I’m making myself tackle, she’s handling it all. I think she’ll make a good replacement for me.”

It had been decided, upon his decision to gracefully leave after the semester ended, that Jim would help recruit the next English Literature Professor. They would essentially take his place in all the classes offered, as they were essential for graduation for many students. Of course, the English department was having a bit of a ruckus with the changes, so Jim was trying to stay as far away from the drama as possible. He settled on forcing them to accept his stance on Nyota Uhura’s brilliance as a student, teacher’s assistant, and knowledge in the world of Literature.

In the end, there hadn’t been any other offers. The position hadn’t even reached the job posting board of the school, let alone San Francisco. Nyota got it without any fan fair. She was their first and only option. Jim figured it was because they didn’t have _time_ to find a new teacher and train them before Spring Semester hit. Nyota knew his classes, knew the school, and was a diligent teacher and individual. He felt proud to know she would take over his work without any hiccups.

“Should have seen Patrick’s facial expression though, when I walked into the higher up’s office circle and handed them my two week’s notice. I don’t think any of them had expected it. I didn’t explain a fucking thing. I just left it on the secretary’s desk and left. Patrick found me later that day. Said I was doing the ‘brave thing’ bowing out now. God, I wish I knew if this was brave or not.”

Bones moved a pawn and glanced up at his emotionally conflicted friend. It hadn’t been easy since the weight of that decision had been forced into Jim’s hand. Watching his best friend pass on his life’s work to another person, leaving the school behind and walking into the unknown wasn’t easy. Watching Jim struggle with the aftershocks was so far giving Bones far more grief than anyone expected.

“Don’t listen to them. It’s what you believe is right for you. Nothing – you are brave, Jim. But you are also intelligent and bright, scared and hurting and searching. Don’t give up on who you are. You’re still here. Right here, right now.”

“Yeah.”

“You look good though. Rested. Been sleeping better?”

Jim smiled as he played his next move. “Yup. Even though today has been crazy ass busy with school work, so I don’t know how you can tell.”

“Freedom usually likes to stick around.”

“God, you are awful at this. Can’t you just say ‘you look a fuck ton better, Jim, because I know you aren’t getting any cancer treatments. They were making you look dead.’ Well, ya know, good. By the way, I’m dying because of it.”

“Jim-“

“No, sorry, that was mean of me.” He sighed. Jim noted Bones hadn’t moved yet. Their conversation had taken another sour turn. It always did. _I just want a normal conversation. A normal life. Where we don’t talk about my health or my body or my lack of hair. Or my resignation. School is just depressing._ He was feeling the effects of his decision slam onto his shoulders and wrap around his neck, almost choking him. The fear, the anger, the depression was crippling.

“Jim,” Bones whispered, holding out a hand. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He shook his head, hands clenched into fists. “No, it’s not. I just – I don’t want to talk about this today. Can we – move on?”

“Of course. What would you like to talk about?”

_Anything but here. Anything but this._

“I want to get out of this city for a while. I can’t stand – the memories or the constant reminders of what is happening to me. Can we just – can we go somewhere for Christmas? It’s almost Christmas and it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Heck, what happened to Thanksgiving? What was that? That was gallantly overshadowed by _me_. And being sick. I just – we get out of here and celebrate Christmas without talking about my illness ever. It stays here.”

Bones nodded thoughtfully as he put his focus back on the chess board. “Not a bad idea. I like it.”

“Really?”

He grinned as he made his next move. “Yes. Where would you like to go?”

“Out of California. I’d say space, but you know we can’t do that.”

“Getting off the planet would be a bit difficult. Sorry, Captain. Hmm… visit your mom?”

Jim blanched and stalled on his way to move his next piece. “Good lord, no. Not my mother. Iowa is out. The Midwest is out. I’d go with North from here, or anywhere that says ‘east coast’. Heck, I have the money; I’m completely okay with splurging on any country outside of this one.”

“You want to go somewhere. Any ideas?”

Jim sighed. “None.”

Bones shrugged. “I haven’t seen my parents in a while.”

“You want to go to Georgia?”

“Unless you have somewhere better to go.”

“I’ll take it. Georgia it is. When can we leave?”

Bones managed to laugh as he made his next move after Jim thoroughly crushed his nearest rook. “I’ll see what I can make of my schedule. How long do you want to be gone?”

“Over Christmas at least.”

“Two weeks sound good?”

“I love the idea.”

“Then we got ourselves a trip out of San Francisco.”

“Your parents won’t mind?”

“Not in the least. I think they would enjoy seeing their eldest son. And I’m sure they would love to meet you, Jim. After all this time, I’m amazed they haven’t gotten to meet you face-to-face.”

“Life has been – busy.”

Bones smiled sadly. “It’ll be okay, Jim.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. And that’s why I’m here. Tell me your fears, tell me everything. I won’t laugh at you. I know how much this is hurting you. I want to – tell me how I can help you. You know I will do anything for you.”

Jim nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He was about to cry again. He felt awful – his back was getting to him and his headache was coming back. He just wanted one evening where he wasn’t in constant pain or fear of the unknown. He wanted more _time_. Couldn’t he have that? Why did he have to give up school now? He loved teaching. He just wanted to teach. His students, his books, his – his _everything. Bones, I just want to – keep doing what I love. I think I made a mistake. I want my life ahead of me. I don’t want to give up. Why do I have to give up now?_

“I just want to – get out of here. To get some fresh air. Clear my head. Ya know?”

“Understandable. I’ll arrange everything.”

Their conversation died out as Jim finished off their game in an epic checkmate and succumbed to his aches and pains for the night. The daily ritual of bowing to his sickness was an ever present thing. When would he ever be free of it – he wasn’t sure. He just knew death was coming. Time limit be damned.

* * *

_One last final to sit through._ Jim stretched as he stood from his empty desk, his office mostly cleared of his belongings a few things at a time over the past week. Now all he had left were a few pencils, one literature book pertaining to the final he was about to go give, and a box of graded papers he also was about to give out.

Gathering up the last remnants of his life as an English Literature teacher at the University, he willed himself not to cry. He’d been on the verge of it all week while on campus, and he was not going to let himself show any needless, teary emotion. His faithful coworkers had already given him many letters and gifts in parting, and that time alone had been difficult to get through as people wished him good health, a good future, and that no matter where life took him, he wouldn’t forget them. The tears came late at night when his pain was the worst and his regret heavy on his chest.

With a resolve he didn’t know he had, Jim stepped out of his office space and closed the door, holding firmly to the last of his things. The space would be filled with love and adoration from his predecessor Nyota Uhura. She would be do his memory in this place great honor, and he knew it.

 _One last final._ The lecture hall was just down the hall and no student could be seen. He wasn’t late – he was, in fact, ten minutes early. So why weren’t there any students milling about outside his office or the lecture hall? They were always around. They had been around every day this week, asking questions, prodding him with their creative juices and wonderful words.

And now, when he was sure he needed _someone_ nearby, there was not a soul around.

With a sigh, he walked confidently to his final test. The door into the lecture hall opened without hindrance.

“SURPRISE!”

A chorus of student voices echoed in his ears as he stood dumfounded over the threshold, Jim cursing himself into disbelieving the sight before him. He noticed students from previous semesters and students in all his classes that semester and Nyota all crowded into the lecture hall, all wearing _gold_ (more yellow, but what did he care. They all knew his favorite color. Someone had fucking planned this!) A quick glance told him they’d even bought a fucking _huge_ Costco cake and it was also _gold_. And last, but not least, he noted with curious attention to the wrapped present sitting beside the cake, and a book with a pen. _A guest book. What the?_

He shook his head and walked in, all eyes on him as he set his things beside the podium. He’d glanced at the cake inscription on the way past, noting that it said: _Good luck, Professor Kirk._ He didn’t know what to say. Jim was very sure that the second he opened his mouth, he would choke or cry or _something_. This – _this_ was something else. Everything. From the cake to the crowd to the – _crashing of his very last final._

“Jim,” Nyota walked up, her hands outstretched. He gingerly took them, eyes wide. He didn’t say anything. Just – went with it.

“Someone might have gotten this crazy idea to throw you a farewell party. As it is, most of the student body, a majority of them a student of yours at one point in time over the years, decided to band together in secrecy. I think Sara would like to say a few words.”

Jim just nodded as one of his more familiar English Literature major’s, Sara Esterland, moved from her position from the middle of the crowd to the front of the room. She promptly threw her arms around him and hugged him, whispering, “Oops, did a surprise.” He wanted to laugh, but he was sure it would turn into any manner of crying. He gingerly hugged her back until she pulled away and kept one of her arms wrapped around the small of his back as she faced the ever large and seemingly threatening crowd of students.

“Welcome, friends and students, to the ridiculously crazy going away party for Professor Kirk. Of course, we all know we don’t want him to leave. But we all know it is best for him, especially at this difficult time. For the past two semesters, Professor Kirk has taught us all diligently while also simultaneously receiving cancer treatment. While there were days when we weren't sure who would be at the head of the lecture hall in any given class on any given day, we all knew that our hard work was the best medicine for our fun loving, extremely talented, brilliant, and completely handsome teacher.”

Jim rolled his eyes as a few of the crowd laughed. _Always with the good looks._ He could feel the tears. The fact that this speech was going to make him cry made him wish he’d stayed home that day. _I don’t want to cry. Oh god._

“He’s been around for as long as I can remember – teaching us books and getting us to understand the deeper meaning behind ‘Hamlet’, ‘Romeo and Juliet’, and Robert Frost poems. Oh, and god forbid any of us would actually understand ‘The Odyssey’. He made us write some awful two page papers and some very interesting twenty page papers. In fact, he even made us stand in front of the class and present three poems simultaneously while comparing and contrasting the art of Picasso. I’d say my favorite project was acting out ‘The Starry Night’ by Anne Sexton while incorporating a classical literature comparison. Let it not be said we haven’t all been through some kind of hell by Professor Kirk, guys.”

The crowd hooted and hollered in agreement, making Jim blush. He liked to give his student’s challenges. It wasn’t all about the papers and the books. It was about learning, critically thinking, and engaging in the act of processing the world around you. He tried his hardest. That was what he did best.

“But I’d say the best thing he ever did for us was to never give up. That is not what today is about. He isn’t giving up. He’s respecting himself and his students. He’s giving us the chance to say good-bye.

So, Professor Kirk, while we regret the decision to let you go, we hope our gratitude stays with you forever. We are very thankful for your contribution to our studies and the betterment of our lives as we strive to be just like you. We want your passion, your love, and your good looks. Because those are always a plus. We bid you farewell from this place and wish you happiness, love, and peace as you embark on your next adventure. We all thank you for your kindness, generosity, and granting us the pleasure of being your students.”

She planted a kiss on his forehead as he felt himself lose it completely. He told himself he wouldn’t cry, but he knew it couldn’t be helped. The tears streamed down his face as Sara gently wrapped him up in a hug. She turned him away from prying eyes, holding him close. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Her comfort was welcoming, but her words still gave him the ache of longing – the wish that he wasn’t leaving. That he wasn’t giving up on his students. For as much as she said he never gave up, he was. _He was._ He’d resigned out of fear of the unknown. He had given up on knowing what was going to happen to him. He just knew death was coming. And he didn’t want to hurt anyone else as he dragged his family and friends down with him.

A few minutes passed until Jim could get his composure back. By the time he was at a sniffling pace, Nyota was waiting for him, patiently, the gift in her hands.

“Thanks,” he murmured both to Sara and Nyota as he took the gift. He wiped at his eyes once more before advancing on the wrapping paper with an unknown ferocity. The paper was off in seconds and in his hands was a – journal. Elegant black leather and a smooth silver buckle. He gently opened it, finding a very touching note inside: _For all the times you needed someone to listen – do not be afraid to write it down. For as you have given us literature, go ahead and write your own. We will never forget you, Professor James T. Kirk. Love, every single English and Literature student from San Francisco State University._

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” Sara said, smiling at him.

And then it happened. Every single person in the room stood and gave him a standing ovation. “To Professor Kirk!!!”

He stood in awe of their adoration, and felt incredibly – small. _You shouldn’t have._

It died down after a few minutes and finally order was called. “Okay, everyone! Professor Kirk has a final to give to his British Romanticism students. Anyone who is NOT in that class is asked to leave. The cake will be available in the student lounge once it gets moved there!” Nyota called out to the crowd.

With a mild murmuring of disappointment, a majority of the room thinned out in rapid succession, many taking a short second to shake Professor Kirk’s hand in farewell.

By the time the room cleared, only Jim, Sara, his seven other British Romanticism students, and Nyota were left.

“Wow,” was all he could say, shaking his head as he moved to stand behind the podium.

“That was so worth it,” Sara beamed, taking her spot next to her best friend, Elvira.

“So, we really still have to have our final?” Jeremy asked, his face twisted into confusion.

Jim laughed. “Hmm, yes, yes you still have to have your final. However, I only instructed you to read up on all the books we’ve studied this semester. This final is not your average final.”

And with that, Jim stepped right into the very last time he would get the chance to do what he did best: teach. He asked one simple question to his eight students and let the discussion take place. It lasted for fifty two minutes and consisted of arguments left and right, along with interesting changes and one tangent off into who-knows-where land. In the end, all eight of his brilliant students passed their final and passed his seven thirty am British Romanticism class.

And Jim? He went home with a piece of cake, a new journal to write his thoughts and memories in, and a heavy heart. His teaching days were over – his grades were handed in two hours later from home and his employment with the San Francisco State University was over.

He curled up in bed that night, restless and emotionally distraught. _I lost the thing I love the most to this awful disease. It can’t take anything else from me. It cannot get worse than this._


	16. Georgia Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas vacation in Georgia. With a side of family drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find this was one of my least favorite chapters to write. It was very difficult for me to write, not in terms of angst, but more content to keep going. It feels very filler-ish. McCoy's background in canon didn't really fit with anything I've said before, so.... I kind of went with the flow. *sigh* But I am powering through! It'll get better, I promise.

The plane ride to Austin, Texas had been hell. Whoever had thought leaving at six thirty in the morning was a good thing obviously had no idea how Jim Kirk’s digestive system worked. Let alone his current lack of a sleep schedule and the ever growing headache he seemed to be achieving at noon, on the dot, every single day. Their total flight time was six hours and twenty minutes with a two hour lay-over in the raining, dreary city of Austin. The wait was excruciatingly long and Jim was having a hard time adjusting to that and the frequent time changes. For some reason, jet lag bothered him forwards in time, not _backwards_. He needed to get out more often.

“You want anything? An oxycodone? Zofran? Tums?” To Bones’ credit, he was trying his hardest to keep on top of all the symptoms Jim happened to be portraying at any one moment; however he seemed to be stumped at that moment as to what Jim needed when he wasn’t all that willing to give out any actual information. His best friend looked miserable curled up on a nearby seat, waiting for their second and final plane to board on their way to Georgia.

Jim buried his head into the bundled up sweater and swore. “Fuck it. Zofran and than oxycodone.” His head was killing him and the headache was turning into a pretty volatile migraine. They still had another plane to catch and all Jim wanted to do was take a nap. He was going to crash – and hard – when they reached their final destination. As it was, Jim was trying desperately not to depend on his medications. He wanted a clear head and a crap ton of energy during this vacation. He was already failing miserably.

It was December 18th. Christmas was fast coming. Bones had secured a two week vacation at the last minute, allowing both of them to travel to Atlanta, Georgia and then hitch a ride with Mrs. McCoy, Leonard’s mother, to the grand old Victorian style home of the McCoy family. It had been in the family since the 1800’s and, as Bones would say, ‘it kept up with modern technology flawlessly’. Talk about history. Bones’ sister, brother-in-law, and niece would arrive on the 20th and they would all stay until the first of New Year.

Jim just wanted to last that long. He hated feeling sick, and he just wanted to enjoy his – time off. His _freedom_.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to schedule an MRI?”

His best friend’s head peeked out from under the sweater and stuck his tongue out. “No. I don’t care. And we said we weren’t going to talk about this during this trip. Ask me again on the 2nd of January. Which, my answer will still be _no_.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We’re done talking about it.”

It had been Jim’s choice to completely stop seeing doctors and seeking knowledge on his condition. While Dr. Boyce continued to write new prescriptions for his patient, Jim didn’t request any diagnostics, didn’t seek out any life-saving treatment, and definitely didn’t look into any information behind new aches or pains. He just handled the symptoms with medications, rest, and a healthy diet. His stress level was about zero now that he was no longer employed, so it obviously wasn’t _that_. His emotions were all over the place, but he was taking a mood stabilizer for that. He was lucky – his hair was growing back slowly but surely. He was a fury fuzz ball, or so what Bones called him. The hats he wore helped keep him warm with his crappy amount of hair so far; they especially helped as the cold settled around them in the winter months.

 _Flight 3456 is accepting boarding passes for early risers, those who need a little extra time, and families with young children. This is a courtesy call for boarding passes of early risers, those who need a little extra time and help onto the plane, and families with young children for United Airlines Flight 3456_.

“Come on, Jim. Let’s get you settled into your seat. We’ll be in Atlanta before you know it.”

Jim groaned. He never wanted to fly again. _This was a bad idea_.

* * *

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. McCoy.”

Jim let a hand trail lazily as he took in all the _pictures_ and _art_ that adorned just the front living room. The house was _huge_. If you took both Bones’ and his apartments and smashed them together, they were _nothing_ in size or expertise in comparison to the McCoy family home in a small town thirty six miles outside of the huge bustling city of Atlanta.

They had arrived just short of five in the afternoon and Jim hadn’t even been upstairs. His stomach had settled, even if his headache was coming back with full force. He figured he would be heading to bed early before long. After dinner, of course.

Somehow, Jim had missed not coming to the house of the McCoy’s before now. Bones had always made excuses during high school, and then when they both headed to college, they had both left their respective homes for dorms and then apartments and then life took them by surprise in San Francisco. There had never been time. This was a complete first for Jim – Georgia, the home, Mrs. McCoy.

“Thank you, Jim. I’m sure Len can show you your room. Honey, it’s the third door on the left. The one right after-“

“The bathroom, yes, mother, I know. The place hasn’t changed an _inch_ since I was last here,” Bones breathed as he shifted against the door jam. He was busy watching Jim take in the sights of the old family home. That alone made Bones at ease, even if he was in a highly uncomfortable place with his mother. They had never been on the greatest terms, and staying over for _two weeks_ was going to drive him batty. But he was doing it for Jim. Everything was for Jim.

She laughed. “Yes, well, the appliances were updated from time to time. We even finally got central heating and cooling. No need to damage the antiquity of the home, as the saying goes.”

Bones rolled his eyes. _Like I care_.

“Dinner will be at six. I have a cook who makes divine meatloaf. Do you eat meat, Jim?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” he said distractedly, his focus on a nearby bookcase, his eyes reading and taking in all the first and second editions of some of the more famed literature in history. The English Literature Professor in him was intrigued. His heart squeezed painfully in reminder of what he no longer had, but he ignored it. He told himself he wasn’t going to let it get to him. He was there for much needed rest and relaxation – no need to worry about what he didn’t have, what he’d lost, and what he was about to lose. _No morbidity, no thank you_.

“I need to go make a phone call to your sister, Len. Then I would like to talk to you privately for a few minutes. You will be all right, yes, Jim?”

He shrugged and nodded. “I brought a few books. Hope you don’t mind.”

She smiled. “Of course not. Vacation should be comfortable and relaxing. Once we have Katie here on Friday, we can all start decorating the house. Oh, that should be great fun!”

Bones watched with a wary eye as his mother proceeded into the large dining room and through a back door into the kitchen. He gave himself a pinch to make sure this was real – he was really at his mother’s home, in Georgia, with Jim. _God, what have I gotten myself into?_

“You doing okay, Jim?”

Jim was thumbing through one of the books, his eyes alight with excitement and joy. “Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m okay.”

“Don’t overexert yourself. My mom will understand.”

“I’m fine, Bones. Even though she said something about showing me my room?”

He groaned. “Yeah, yeah, grab your stuff. Then apparently I should talk to my mother.”

They both headed upstairs, the stairs spiraling to the second floor and then to a third floor, however neither of them needed to head up there. The two guest bedrooms were on the second floor and separated by their own Jack-and-Jill bathroom. One of the bedrooms had once been Bones’ old room when he had lived there. He got the privilege, if you could call it that, of staying in familiarity. Jim just got the guest bedroom that had been painted blue since Bones’ last stay.

“I think I’m spoiled,” Jim said in awe, the bed looking like an oasis. Far better than his bedroom back at home, any time. There was even a couch along with two bedside stands, a dresser, a mirror, and a walk in closet.

Bones smirked. “You need to get out more often.”

“Hmm, probably true.”

He set to unpacking his things, Bones joining in to make the work faster and less strenuous on Jim’s back and energy. Once they were finished, Jim climbed onto the bed, basking in its warmth and amazingly comfortable feeling.

“Hey Bones?” he called as his best friend headed for the door to go speak with his mother.

“Yes?”

“Thanks. For this. Vacation. Here. Ya know.”

Bones smiled. “Of course. You need it.”

Jim sighed and managed to crawl out of the bed without injuring himself. “I think I’ll read here until dinner. She said six, right?”

“Yup. I’ll be up to get you. Don’t be afraid to holler if you need anything.”

“I will.”

* * *

“Honey, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

Leonard shrugged as he sipped his coffee. Jim had turned in early shortly after dessert had finished and now Leonard sat in the familiar swing chair out on the deck in the cool evening air watching the sky like he had when he was just a child. “In regards to?”

Mrs. McCoy sighed as she set her own cup of coffee down on a nearby table. “You know who, Len. Now I know you two have known each other since high school, and somehow I’ve only learned about Jim in passing. However, now that I’m seeing him face-to-face – something isn’t right. You don’t call, you don’t write, you show up out of the blue from _San Francisco_. And he – well, you both look _sad_. Is there something you would like to tell me, Leonard dear?”

He felt his frustration, his anger, his pain, his _depression_ hit him with a full on emotional gasp as he struggled to keep in the rolling wave. _Why did we come out here?_ “Why didn’t you tell me dad died?”

“Leonard, there was nothing to be done. It was better – you didn’t even want to see him. Why notify you of his passing? You were estranged when it came to your father. I hardly see how you could care now. And you’ve barely talked to me since – since that year. What was I supposed to do? Tell me – what was I supposed to do?”

“You had NO RIGHT!” He stood, glaring at her. “I sacrificed everything for my career. The only one who ever mattered, who ever _cared_ was Jim, and now – now I’m going to lose him.” He could feel himself chocking on tears. He hadn’t cried a tear since Jim’s diagnosis. Not once had he broken down, because he knew how much Jim needed the strength. They had both been estranged from their parents, and the fact was, Jim needed Bones more than anything. It wasn’t right for him to cry. It wasn’t right for him to get mad and angry. He barreled on anyway, focusing his frustration at his mother, his likely target. “And you think it was okay to not tell me my father died four years ago? That our lack of communication is my fault? That you knew all this time that David McCoy was an awful, awful father and I wouldn’t find _relief_ in knowing he was finally gone? I gave you my address, my phone number. I gave you that option! But you never called.

“Now, I came here because Jim – he _needs_ the distraction. He’s _dying_ , mother. Stage four cancer. You said yes to us visiting, and you didn’t ask the occasion! You miss ‘important details’ to tell me, however I’m supposed to tell you everything about my life?! There is a reason I went to San Francisco. It meant getting as far away from you as I could get! And now you think you can just tell that oh, poor Jim, he’s depressed, he’s sick. What about me? What about the fact I’m losing my best friend? The only person to ever care about me? The only person I have cared about because you ruined that _years ago?_ You can’t just ACT civilized for me, you have to – RUIN IT ALL.”

“Len-“

“NO! It isn’t right. It isn’t _fair_.” He shoved off from a nearby pillar, finding himself stomping down the stairs into the lawn, running a hand through his hair. He continued to yell all the same. “You don’t get to just be up and forgiven in an instant. You have to earn that! Just because you allowed us to visit means nothing to me. Jim needs the distraction. Jim needs the peace and quiet and the lack of stress. He needs less of a reminder of his mortality and more a reminder of fun and relaxation. Don’t ruin that for him! He’s MY BEST FRIEND. I can’t – I won’t – _I can’t watch him die. Please, oh god, please don’t let him die_.”

In the end, Bones found himself on his knees in the grass, hugging his arms close as he broke down in sobs. His pent up frustrations at his mother led way to his own hidden turmoil of losing Jim. He couldn’t stand to watch Jim die. It was breaking him into pieces now – what would happen when he actively started to deteriorate? What would happen when Jim wouldn’t remember Bones’ face or name or the memories of what they were together? And what would happen when Jim would just – not be there anymore? Gone, forever?

He had wanted to desperately to see Jim beat his disease, to find remission and _stay there_. But it had never happened. Jim just got worse. First they took his strength and his hair, and then they took his kidney. Now they would take away him. How much time his best friend had, Bones couldn’t say. The headaches were getting worse, but Jim had yet to show any other symptoms. It was like they were getting a reprieve from the hell that would become the one and only James T. Kirk with a terminal brain tumor. It was only a matter of time. Bones just wished he didn’t understand the clinical side of it all. He was no neurologist, but he was frustrated with the facts. He was a doctor, damn it, he couldn’t watch his best friend die! IT WASN’T FAIR!

“Oh, Leonard. I am – I am so sorry.”

_He’s gonna die. And I can’t do anything to stop it. Just like I couldn’t save my father… I couldn’t… I had no idea._

He finally whispered, tears still coursing down his cheeks. “I just want him to be happy. Please, let me do this for him. Please.”

“Anything, my love, anything,” Mrs. McCoy whispered, wrapping her arms around her shaking son. And then she cried too, for everything – her husband, her son, and the stranger she knew very little about that was losing an already lost battle.


	17. Georgia Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to hold out on the angst - oh, wait, nope, can't stop that. I'm pretty sure the rest of the chapters will just be one giant crying fest for myself and all you readers. (And yeah, sorry, I keep adding more scenes, so the chapter count goes up... I'm hoping I get closer to the end at ONE POINT?!!!! Yeah)

“Katie, could you hand me the blue sparkling ornament?”

Jim stood on the ladder beside the nine foot tall tree, its half-decorated frame looking like a child’s play toy. The bottom limbs were rimmed with green and blue and red colored popcorn strings, plastic beaded gold necklaces, hand-made and painted ornaments from McCoy family history, and a string of blinking Fourth of July lights. The top was being carefully crafted by Jim and Bones as they asked for different things from ever-exuberant Katie Harrison, daughter of Cathy McCcoy-Harrison and John Harrison.

Bones’ niece picked up the requested ornament and handed it to Jim, beaming as she watched him place it on the tree. “Another, another?!!”

He laughed as he pointed to another of the same color and type and she quickly obeyed.

Bones, on the other side of the tree, was wrapping regular old popcorn strings into a figure eight. “Creativity at its finest.”

“Looks good, Uncle Len.”

“Hmm, thank you, Katie. Now, when we are all finished – who gets the honors of putting up the angel?”

A familiar voice piped up from the dining room, “That will wait until tonight, when we have family time.”

In all honesty, Bones didn’t really believe that answered his question, but he knew better than to question his own mother’s logic. If anything, he just didn’t want to piss her off. They were already on a precarious line, with their differences and estrangement for so long coming in to play as they both took over the task of making sure Jim was comfortable and happy. Bones controlled the medications while Mrs. McCoy kept up with the activities, balancing fun times with nap times.

Jim, in all his wisdom, didn’t comment on the fact he was feeling a bit – overshadowed. It was possible they were being overbearing, seeing as he was still functioning perfectly fine. He’d only had one truly awful migraine incident, since the plane trip, that had made him crawl into bed and wish the world would go away. Seeing as Christmas Eve was upon them, he counted it as a plus that he was feeling much better without the radiation treatments and chemotherapy, and now he was feeling relaxed.

The trio made quick work of the rest of the tree, giving it their own personal, creative touch as there was absolutely no continuity between the popcorn strings, the lights, or the placement of ornaments. In the end, the treewas a work of art, and that’s what made it personal with a touch of beauty.

“It looks gorgeous! You all did a wonderful job,” Mrs. McCoy cooed, sweeping Katie up into her arms. Katie was a glowing four-year old, her smile brilliantly white.

Behind them stood, arm-in-arm, John and Cathy as they also admired the tree. “It’s quite spectacular to look at. Good job, guys.”

Jim dusted off his hands as he folded the ladder back to a much smaller size. Bones was doing the same nearby when he noted that Jim’s face was flushed and his body language told him he was in pain. _Time for another pain pill_. He finished his work and, as Jim stepped away from his own finished ladder, gently put a hand on the small of Jim’s back. “Let’s head upstairs for a second.”

He sighed as he nodded in agreement. His back was bothering him and he knew he had tweaked something.

“We’ll be right back,” Bones called, following Jim out of the room and up the stairs.

Once back in Jim’s room, Bones went straight for the bathroom. “Just sit. I’ll get your pills.”

“I-I’m okay, promise. Just over… over exerted myself,” Jim muttered through clenched teeth as he eased himself onto the bed. The pillows helped support when he wasn’t feeling well.

Bones exited the bathroom with a glass of water and two pain pills. “Don’t be afraid to take them. I know you wanted to go without, but it isn’t a good idea.”

Jim nodded, smiling weakly as he took the pills and water. “I’m fine, by the way.”

“Is everything okay, though? Do you like it here? I know we’ve been here for almost a week, and I’m just now asking that, but – is there anything I can do to make it more comfortable, homey? I can-“

“Shh, Bones. It’s fine. It’s really – it’s great. I love it. And I get my alone time. I’m okay. Thank you, but you don’t need to worry.” He swallowed the two pills and set the water on the bedside table. He felt incredibly tired. “These will take a little bit to kick in. Mind if I rest for a bit? I’ll be down for dinner, promise.”

Bones patted Jim’s upper arm. “Of course. If you need anything, don’t-“

“Hesitate to ask. I know.” Jim smiled as he closed his eyes, feeling, not seeing, as Bones quietly left the room.

_It’ll be okay, Bones. It’s… it is okay._

* * *

Dinner that night was amazing. It was a seven-course meal filled with vegetables, mashed potatoes, turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, grapes, cheese, crackers, red and white wine, pumpkin pie, cranberry juice, homemade dinner rolls, and a McCoy family tradition: crock pot Macaroni and Cheese. It took place in the elegant and perfectly coordinated formal dining room. The table cloth was red, the plates a shimmering gold, the napkins a shade darker in red than the table cloth. It was all a very perfect and wonderful Christmas dinner.

The conversation was light, the room warm with fellowship. Bones kept a careful eye on Jim’s energy and minute movements of discomfort, but overall, everything went well. It was a Christmas dinner to remember.

It made Bones’ heart heavy, knowing it was Jim’s last Christmas. No matter if Jim somehow beat the statistics and lived for another few months, it was almost unlikely he would last another year. The physical symptoms were already showing – the headaches, the increasing pain, the loss of energy. For a moment, Bones had hoped Jim was going to be all right, that maybe he wasn’t sick. But that moment had passed. The reality was upon them. Jim would see the New Year most likely, but he wouldn’t get much further than that.

Now was a time to cherish the time he had left with his best friend. They were more brothers than anything. And that’s what made it worse. Bones couldn’t lose his most precious friendship. He had nothing else in life except the livelihood of Jim Kirk. He needed Jim, just like Jim needed him.

Once dinner finished, the whole group moved into the formal living room, where the tree was lit, bright and cheery. Presents had magically materialized under it, but they would not be opened until the next morning. There was one more thing that needed to be done to the tree – the Angel. It had been in the family since before Bones’ own grandmother on his mother’s side had been born. Spanning a few decades, coming up on a century, it still looked brand new from the day it had come into existence. Now, only one could be chosen from the group to place it on the top of the tree, to complete Christmas Eve and ring in the Christmas day. They would all head to bed once Mrs. McCoy prayed and then meet up in the early morning when, more than likely, Katie would wake them all up in excitement. That was usually how Christmas’s happened in the McCoy house.

“All right, mother, who gets the honors of putting the sacred angel on top of the tree?” Cathy spoke up, linking her arm around her husband’s waist.

Mrs. McCoy, who had taken a seat in the red velvet single chair near the tree, gave a thoughtful smile as she glanced at each individual within the room. There was her cook Peter, her son Leonard, her surrogate son Jim, her granddaughter Katie (too short and far too young for the responsibility of the angel just yet), her daughter Cathy, and her son-in-law John. Also, herself. However, she knew what it meant to put the angel on the top of the tree, and she knew she had to pick the perfect person.

She smiled as she realized just who that should be. “I realize that my son has been gone from this establishment for a few years now – however, I believe it to be more fitting to allow someone more suitable to place the angel up on the tree.” She stood, taking it from its spot on top of the mantel, holding it close. “Jim, if you would please.”

He blinked. _Me?_ “Um… me?”

She laughed lightly. “I would believe you are the only Jim around.”

With a look of some confusion, he took the offered angel. He glanced up at the top of the tree, noting that one of the ladders had been unfolded and placed in its proper position, allowing him to climb carefully to appropriate height to place the angel on the very top. With a final snug fit, the angel gleamed from its position at the head of the glowing Christmas tree.

“Thank you, Jim,” Mrs. McCoy offered, squeezing Jim’s hand as he stepped down from the ladder. He smiled back, but didn’t say anything.

“I shall offer up the prayer, and then we may all head to bed. I am sure we will all be up bright and early to exchange gifts and enjoy the full, fun day ahead tomorrow.”

Everyone, in reverence, bowed their heads and Mrs. McCoy offered up her yearly prayer.

“For another year has passed, and we are but stewards of this earth. A banner year – my son has come home. For family is all that I ask of in this time of joy, love, and memories. May we enjoy each other fully and welcome in the Christmas spirit as we reflect on the past year. Pain and heartbreak, love and friendship. All I ask is safety, peace, and a loving heart. May we all have a memorable Christmas, and may we all sleep well tonight. Truly, we are but as strong as we are one. Amen.”

* * *

The festivities inside had been going on for a while now as Katie kept up a wild party playing charades and quizzing her parents and grandmother with her new kids quiz game. While she couldn’t read just yet, she was pretty good at making things up. During all this, Jim had slipped outside, away from the chaos and noise.

Bones had managed to get Jim a personalized frame with a picture of the both of them from during their harsh graduate years – Bones in medical school, Jim managing his thesis work. They had been bros then and now and forever. They looked a lot different now. The memory was a fond one, and Bones had been searching for the right thing to give his best friend on this Christmas, especially with time being a bastard.

Upon opening his present, Jim had grown quiet. His own gift to Bones had been a personal request for a new blanket. It seemed so – impersonal, now that he thought about it. But, it was over. They’d both exchanged gifts and carried on like it hadn’t been a big deal.

Now, it seemed so much – more than that.

He found Jim sitting in the grass, fingers idly playing with a few strands of precious green grass in the mildly cold winter afternoon of Christmas day in Georgia. He was staring out into the openness of the wilderness beyond, open fields and a few scattered trees. It was an odd part of Georgia – most of the state wasn’t this barren.

“Hey.”

Jim looked up, smiling at the familiar voice. “Hey.”

“She can get a bit tiring.”

He laughed, patting the spot beside him. “No kidding. I feel like I’m eighty years old. Maybe I have lived my life fully.”

Bones took the offer and sat beside his best friend, smiling tentatively in his direction. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Jim shook his head. “Just – thinking. I meant to – my gift seems really shitty now.”

“Oh, god, please, no, don’t think that. I love it. It’s perfect. It’s – Jim, it’s tangible. And you put thought into it.”

“Not like what you… what you gave me. Thank you for that, by the way. I appreciate it. I know exactly where it’ll go in my bedroom.”

Bones gently wrapped an arm around Jim and pulled him close. “You’re my best friend. In a brotherly way, I love you. And – I can’t think of life without you. You’ve made my life better, and for that, I’m grateful. It was – all I could imagine giving you.”

He heard Jim swallow hard. “God, this sucks. This really, really sucks.”

“It’s okay, Jim. It’s okay.”

“I’m so scared, but I can’t – I’m glad you’re here with me. I couldn’t ask for anyone else to get me through this.”

Bones felt his own throat closing as tears once again threatened to spill. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Jim.” It was whispered and ever so shaky. _This talk is never going to get easier_.

He heard the anguished sobs, felt them all the same as Jim’s body shook with fear and sorrow. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, where I go from here, but I need you. Please, _please_.”

 _Never, never ever._ “Never, Jim. I’ll be right here. _Never_.”

With shaking hands, Jim wrapped his arms around Bones’ chest and held on tight as they both continued to cry. For as much as Christmas was supposed to be an all out happy, family time – it was also a very anguished day for the pair of them as they both came to terms with just what was about to happen.

_I’ll be there until the end, Jim. I won’t let you go. Never._


	18. New Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets a little too into the New Years spirit. But then the New Year means changes for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School has now started. Ugh. I am GOING to finish this fanfic while I still have time. It's driving me batty! It is ALL I THINK ABOUT!!!
> 
> Bring on the immense amount of anguish, tears, and heartbreak.

The week flew by as soon as the Christmas activities dissipated. Katie and her two lovely parents flew back to their home in New York while Jim and Bones hung around butt – fucking – nowhere Georgia, pleasing Mrs. McCoy all the more.

They spent the rest of their vacation taking ridiculously long walks in the sometimes cold air, playing chess at every opportunity, and decidedly not mentioning what the New Year would hold. It had become a silent recognition of just not mentioning Jim’s condition or the fact they could and probably _would_ break down in tears at any given moment.

New Years Eve crept up on them with an air of foreboding. None of them had decided what exactly they were going to do – stay up to ring in the New Year, go into Atlanta to party, have their own party, sleep, or any other number of ideas floating around as they went about their day.

At exactly eight forty three that evening, December 31st, Jim made up his mind.

“Bones, I know what I want to do.”

“Hmm?” His head was buried in the nearest non-medical book he could find – so yeah, it happened to be _Oliver Twist_. When Jim had rubbed off on him, he wasn’t sure. He hardly read, and definitely not for pleasure when he did it. Between that and the chess games, he’d passed vacation pretty safely – not getting mad at his mother as much, and not breaking down in complete and utter brokenness because _Jim was dying, damn it. DAMN IT!_

“You remember when you brought me that non-alcoholic pina colada?”

Jim watched hesitantly as he watched his best friend’s left eyebrow rise in trepidation. “Oh? And what about that?”

“I want alcohol. And I want it now.”

“Jim-“

“Nope. I’m good. I’m – damn it, I’m saying it. I’m gonna be dead soon, and I would like to enjoy alcohol at my own leisure before that happens. However, I’ve been on a few pills lately, and have only been out of cancer treatment for a month, but I’m sure the after-effects of having a drink or two won’t kill me with the medications I am on. Now, take me to Atlanta. I want the alcoholic version of a pina colada, and then I want whatever else I can stomach.”

Bones gave Jim a blank stare. “Oh, god, what have I done to you?”

“BONES. COME ON!”

“Fine, fine, okay. It’s New Years Eve. I think I can allow this one slip in miraculous behavior in regards to all the narcotics you happen to be on. Don’t bring any along – I’m not allowing you to drink and fucking take them. I’m putting a limit on your alcohol consumption too.”

“How much of a limit?”

“You’ll find out when we get into the city. Get your shit together. We leave in ten.”

* * *

“You never actually told me how GREAT these are!” Jim yelled. He was trying hard to be heard of the roar of the crowd around the bar. He’d grabbed a seat just as a really hot blond left it, the cushion still warm. Bones rolled his eyes as he stood beside his friend, sipping from a rum and coke. Jim had already consumed a whole Pina Colada, alcohol inducing mania already setting in. He was working on his second. Bones was pretty sure he would cap Jim off at three, if not four – he wasn’t entirely sure yet. Things could get interesting from that point on.

“That’s because I don’t actually drink those, Jim. I drink a lot harder stuff.”

Jim huffed and noisily downed another third of his drink. It was almost empty. “You and your bourbon and your ‘I’m from fucking Georgia’ – this place blows, you know that, right? Can we go back to San Francisco now?”

“Tomorrow, Jim. Tomorrow. And you are not allowed to hurl on the plane. I’ll drug you before that happens.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed as he listened to Bones talk. Then he sighed. “You are really mean, you know that?”

Bones shrugged. “You’re the one who asked us to come out tonight.”

“Can’t you just be – I don’t know, fucking happy for once?”

“Not a conversation you want to have tonight while I’m allowing you to get drunk, Jim. You won’t remember it, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know if it’s the alcohol or the three brain tumors you have that are talking right now.” Bones almost shivered. Jim hadn’t been showing any signs of memory loss or inappropriate social interaction, but it would just be their luck if the alcohol screwed that all up. Inebriation was bad enough – add in three pretty vile brain tumors, infected bone marrow, and a tumor the size of Texas along your spinal cord, and welcome to la la land.

Life sucked, and Bones wasn’t even the one _dying_.

“Oh, god, don’t even say it. That’s not allowed.” Jim shoved the empty glass away and hiccupped. “Evil big scary words like ‘brain tumor’ is not allowed in any more fucking sentences, young man. Because I ain’t taking that crap. Just – no. Now find me a hot lady. I wanna dance.”

 _Okay, what the FUCK did I get myself into?!_ Bones groaned as Jim grabbed his hand in desperation, pulled, and they both seemed to lunge out into the middle of the dance floor, Bones’ drink spilling all over the floor.

“Okay, Jim, just – slow down.”

“You’ll do,” Jim mused, laughing as he wrapped one hand around McCoy’s waist.

The simple act of intimacy, unfazed by Jim himself, immediately made McCoy stiffen instinctively. _Nope, no, bad idea. Nope. Best friend. Not okay. Jim, boundaries._ “Okay, wow, two drinks was obviously too much for you and your narcotic-ridden body. Jim, buddy, I’ll find you a dancing partner if you’d like, but I would prefer it not to be me.” _Before we both do something incredibly stupid and dumb and regret it at two in the afternoon tomorrow when we are both hung over and boarding a plane back to San Francisco, where we will live out the rest of our short lives, because – damn it, we know why_.

He gently unlatched from Jim’s hold, a forced whine coming from Jim’s throat. “Noooo.”

“I’ll find you a partner, Jim. Just – hold on. Don’t be a baby. Or a puppy. God, you suck when drunk.”

Jim seemed to forget what exactly he was attempting and just started slow dancing without a care in the world.

Bones was going to regret letting Jim decide what they were going to do to ring in the New Year. _Should have stayed home with my mother. Better yet, should have stayed in San Francisco. Ugh._

* * *

“Remind me never to drink again,” Jim muttered as he gathered up his stuff into his suitcase haphazardly. Packing was difficult when his vision wouldn’t stop swimming and his head was killing him. His stomach kept rolling painfully and he was sure he was going to barf. He’d only had _two drinks_ , what the ever loving fuck had gone wrong?!!

Bones leaned against the door jam, his own stuff packed neatly and now sitting at the bottom of the stairs, awaiting their departure from his mother’s house. Their flight left at two thirty pm and it was nonstop from Atlanta to San Francisco. That would help with time, and energy.

“It was fun to watch.”

Jim glared daggers, as best he could anyway, towards Bones, finally flipping his suitcase cover closed and zipping it without difficulty. “You are totally unfair, you know that?”

“You were the one who wanted to party hard. I’m cool with that.”

“BOYS! Are you all packed?! I only see one suitcase down here! YOUR TAXI HAS ARRIVED!”

Jim groaned as he slumped against the bed. “I can’t do this.”

“Baby. I got it, Jim. Just head downstairs. Hug my mother good-bye. And don’t talk about anything resembling parting words.”

 _Yup, and we all know why I’m not going to be talking about that._ Jim just nodded and stumbled out of the room after basically picking himself up off the bed and floor simultaneously, hating everything the world had to offer at that moment.

Downstairs, Mrs. McCoy was talking animatedly with the cab driver, her smile a bright spot in the dreary day Jim was having. He was exhausted, sick, and grouchy. He had done it to himself, but Mrs. McCoy didn’t really care about that. She just wanted to make it all better.

“Ah, there he is. My surrogate son. Jim, dear, are you feeling any better?”

He shook his head, resting his head against the nearest wall. “’m fine, though, promise.”

She shook her own head and patted his shoulder. “Hopefully going home and being home will bring you some comfort. I know home is the best place to be when you don’t feel well.”

Bones appeared at the top of the stairs and was down them in the blink of an eye. “All right, mother, we should be going, we don’t want to be late for our plane.”

“Of course not,” she mused, pulling Jim into her embrace. “Now, be good, don’t terrorize my Leonard too much, and do know that I love you. Very much.” She hardly knew Jim, but at the same time, she knew a lot. Enough to know that he needed the love, even if it was from an almost complete stranger.

He mumbled thanks and quickly exited the house looking for his seat in the taxi, the cab driver busy putting their luggage in the trunk.

Bones watched Jim leave, his heart sinking. _Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is, Jim._

“And you, my son – my actual, living, breathing son. What am I ever going to do with you?”

“Not sure yet. Still have to – get through the next few – months.” He doubted that it would take months for Jim to pass, but he wanted to be optimistic. If anything, he wanted to feel – he wanted peace about this situation. It wasn’t coming, no matter what he did. Reasoning, logic, and talking about it did nothing. He just wasn’t moving past the absolute denial stage of grief any better than Jim was moving into the acceptance stage of grief in regards to his own impending death. That was saying a lot, really.

She pulled him into a hug, kissing his cheek. “Well, then, don’t hesitate to call or even visit. I’ll be here, Leonard. You need just call or come.”

He nodded, pulling out of her embrace stiffly. “Yeah. I get that.”

She smiled sadly. “Go on now, he’s waiting. Have a good flight. It was pleasant to have you for a visit, my love.”

Bones sighed. “Yeah. It was nice to get out of town for a while. Thanks for – letting us crash for a couple of weeks.”

“I love you, you know that, right?”

He shrugged and moved to leave the house. They would be late if he didn’t allow the taxi to leave soon. His mother’s outstretched hand stopped him for a second, though. “Leonard, I know what it is like to lose someone you love. If you need to talk about this, at any point, I am here. Please, don’t – don’t keep it bottled up inside. He needs you, and for him to get what he needs before he’s gone – he needs you at a full one hundred percent. Do you understand?”

Bones swallowed hard, nodding. “I… I get it, mother.”

“Good. I love you.”

“Yeah… I love you too.” And then he was gone – disappeared to the outside world, into a taxi that took him away.

She had no idea what she was going to do with herself now that her son was gone. Nor what she would do when Bones would call soon, heartbroken over his best friend’s death. It would not be an easy day – but was it ever?

* * *

A week later, Bones sensed it – the downhill slide. _No, please, not so soon. Not now. Not_ ever _. NO!_ But he couldn’t predict or change the tides. He had no control over what the tumors would do. All Bones could do was watch – and fear the worst.

It began with the simplest of things: a missed lunch date; forgetting the neighbor’s face and name; and forgetting the PIN to his debit card. It didn’t end there – it just started there. The hints, the signs, the symptoms were there: the tumors had entered their final stage, dismantling the person Bones knew as James Tiberius Kirk one memory, one little detail at a time. And it was Bones’ worst nightmare. How much Jim knew was occurring, Bones wasn’t sure. Jim didn’t let on that it bothered him when he forgot something, even though the light in his eyes seemed to diminish by a fraction when it occurred. Now the time clock had started – a bomb would go off at one point and then all it would be was a waiting game. Something Bones was not ready to face. He was sure he would _never_ be ready.

Jim’s slow decline wasn’t about to occur all at once, and the few lost memories didn’t seem to deter Jim from his daily routine now that he was no longer in a teaching position. He wrote in his journal, texted Nyota frequently, met up with Bones for chess games and lunch dates, and he practiced meditation – one of his New Year’s resolutions.

Bones knew it was just the beginning. Things would not get any easier from this point on. In the shadows of the night, in his own bed, he prayed to whatever god or deity or _whatever_ was out there, asking for a reprieve, a miracle, _anything_. He wasn’t ready. He would never be ready. He didn’t want to see this happen – not to his best friend. _Please, no. Not Jim. Give him more time. Anything at all but this. I can’t watch this. Please… save him… anyone…_


	19. Fade Away Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the slow decline Bones was wishing for. Jim's fading - and fading fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does contain some rather unpleasant moments. Please proceed with caution. I will come outright and say that Jim has a rather heated rant where he says things he doesn't mean, but they deal with very mature themes. One of them is rape. It isn't graphic, but it is mentioned. Thank you for understanding.

“How’s the kiddos?”

He heard a laugh and then – “You make this job look far too easy.”

Jim smiled and set his cup of coffee down on the coffee table in front of him, his left hand curled protectively around his phone as he talked to his replacement Professor, Miss Nyota Uhura. “It takes time. Just keep at it. Keep up with the grading and the fucking papers, and don’t assign more than you believe you can chew. This semester you will figure out how much you can chew. And from there, you just work on how to tone it down, but still give life-long education. Plus, I found most of the students were really into doing their work. Slackers bowed out when they found out my coursework wasn’t for them.”

“God, I hope it’s that easy. Oh, hey, should I do Winter’s Tale or Hamlet in Shakespeare?”

 _Wish I had thought of either of those when I was teaching_. Jim shrugged and finally replied thoughtfully, “Everyone knows Hamlet. Like, age-old questions and soliloquies and _everything_. Go with Winter’s Tale. Educational, totally.”

“Thanks. Well, I should get back to the grind.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow. I want to talk to Esther. You be good, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks, Jim.”

Their phone call ended and he dropped the phone beside him on the couch. _Yup, I like this relaxation bit. A lot_.

* * *

Three days later, Bones was sitting across from Jim at a nearby restaurant; both of their attention directed to a new pet project of Dr. McCoy’s – how to thoroughly get the most out of his medical students in their third year.

“You can’t be a tease with them. Be straight forward. And god, don’t be an ass about it,” Jim muttered, picking at his food. He didn’t have much of an appetite. He hadn’t eaten all day, and for some reason, he _still_ wasn’t hungry. Maybe it was the cold outside. The middle of January was creeping up on them fast and it just seemed unbearably awful outside in a blanket of frigid nights and cool daylight. The sun didn’t seem welcoming any longer.

Bones gave thought to Jim’s advice. “Oh, I think I can tease them. They have to find humor in their job or they are never going to make good physicians.”

“You just curse all the time. That always helps.”

“Jim – damn it, I curse _at you_ , and not in my work place! I would get fired for swearing at my patients.”

“Hey! I am your patient, on a bad day.”

“Only a bad day, Jim?” The gleam in his eye was enough to make Jim stick his tongue out.

The awful, no good, _who the hell put this fucking song on Jim’s phone?!!_ ringtone song “Sabotage“ by the Beastie Boys interrupted their conversation just at the right time – kind of also like the waitress that was also headed their way. Jim didn’t notice that particular detail however as he answered his phone in what Bones would contest as fucking slow motion just to enjoy the song.

“Hello,” he answered, smiling as Bones gave him the evil eye.

Whatever was said on the other end, Jim was no longer smiling as a confused look came over his features. “I – wait, who is this?”

Bones figured it was a wrong call, until – “Oh, oh, Nyota. Sorry, I – how are you? We haven’t talked in forever!”

_“Talked to Nyota today. She’s adjusting well to her schedule. I figured she’d be the best for my old position. I miss it, some. I wish… I mean, I kind of want to get back to it, but – well, we all know – eh.” Jim shrugged as Bones made dinner that night. “I said I might stop by. Not sure if I want to. It would be – morbid.”_

Jim hadn’t gone. Bones hadn’t known why. He had just assumed Jim had figured it was morbid.

Now he understood.

 _God damn it._ Bones wanted to be sick. It was getting worse. _He talked to her three days ago. Now he doesn’t remember_ that! _Oh god, please… no…_

“Oh, sorry, yeah, no – hmm. I’m not sure I can give an answer for something that complicated over the phone. Want me to come over tomorrow? Yeah, sorry about Tuesday. But, yeah, I’ll come over tomorrow. When do you – I don’t know your schedule, do I?”

The waitress picked up their plates at request as Jim scribbled on the nearby napkin. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll be over around noon. Good, sure, yeah, good talking to you. Bye!”

Bones watched Jim set the phone on the table and finish writing down his thought before those precious blue eyes found his own staring gaze.

“I forgot… about… god, I’m such an idiot.” He buried his hands in his hair as he pulled, moaning in fear and regret, _god awful shame_ written all over his face.

“Hey, no, no you aren’t. It was an honest mistake, Jim. It’s okay.” Bones held back the tremor he knew would leech into his voice if he let it. The fact Jim had forgotten was unsettling. _Memories… gone… short term memory losing… long term memory maybe?_

“It isn’t okay! I – I don’t know what’s WRONG! Why is this happening to me?!”

“Jim, really – it’s okay. It’s-“ But Bones knew his words were futile. Jim didn’t comprehend. _He’s going to forget. Forget why this is happening._ What _is happening. How do I – how do I manage this?!_  

Jim scooted out of the booth, shaking as he shoved his phone, helplessly, into his back pocket. “I’m sorry. I – I have to go. I just – need some time alone.”

“ _Jim_ , wait. _Please_.” Bones stood, but Jim continued to head for the front of the restaurant. They weren’t all that far from Jim’s apartment, but Bones was too afraid that that part of Jim’s memory would also fade. Maybe not today – but someday soon. And it was a precaution he was going to have to take, tonight of all nights.

Slamming enough money for their food plus tip to spare onto the counter near the cashier, he mouthed _SORRY_! Before racing after Jim. The owner of the establishment basically knew the pair by name, so Bones wasn’t worried if he hadn’t actually paid enough this time around.

Once outside, he glanced in both directions, searching frantically for any glimpse of his friend, hoping to figure out which direction Jim had gone. _Damn it, Jim! I just want to help_.

He sullenly walked/ran the four blocks to Jim’s apartment, praying to whoever was listening that Jim would be tucked away in bed, crying, _anything_ but outside, searching, confused, forgetful _, lost_. It was a fear Bones hoped never came true. It was a small comfort to know that at least Jim had his phone on him. That tiny shard of knowledge helped calm him as he took the stairs two at a time and managed to wrangle open an unlocked front door without difficulty.

The obvious sound of something hitting the wall in another room was the first thing to assault his hearing as he quietly shut the front door. He grimaced. _Not good_. He crept through the living room and towards Jim’s bedroom door, listening carefully.

“Fuck it, damn it.” A loud bang assaulted McCoy’s ears. _Oh Jim_. “I’m not worth it. This isn’t worth it. I hate myself. I hate myself a lot. I’m dying, and no one can SAVE ME. WHY, DAMN IT, WHY, GOD? WHY?” The sound of an unpleasant object coming into contact with the wall made Bones very nervous. _He’s punching the wall. This isn’t going to go well._

“WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE ENDED MY LIFE IN A CAR CRASH? HOW ABOUT POISON? LIKE, ATOMIC RADIATION? EARTHQUAKE, OR FIRE, OR – FIRE WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE. MAYBE A BULLET? A RANDOM STABBING? OH, BETTER - MAYBE SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE RAPED ME AND LEFT ME FOR DEAD. THEN I WOULD HAVE BEEN SOMEONE’S PLAY TOY. SOMEONE’S LAST DINNER BEFORE GIVING UP MY GHOST!!! God, no one even wants to have sex with me, I can only imagine someone wanting to force it on me.” A strained laugh echoed through-out the apartment. “I don’t even _remember_ the last time I had sex. Oh, god. That would have been preferable. And now what? I’m forgetting promises and details and my life is pointless. YEAH, IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL A GREAT LIFE, GOD? BECAUSE I DON’T GET IT. I DON’T. Bones… oh god, what’s he going to think? What _does_ he think? He must think I’m crazy.” The same moan of fear and regret from before was back, and it was accented by what Bones could only assume were tears as Jim’s voice broke, “I have the bestest friend in the world, and he can’t even save me. I… why me? Why him? I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to forget him. DO YOU HEAR ME, GOD? I DON’T WANT TO FORGET HIM. DON’T LET ME FORGET HIM! Please, just don’t let me forget him. Kill me, take away my functioning, I don’t care anymore. Take away the good and the bad memories, my life’s work as an English teacher, whatever you fucking want to do with me – JUST DO IT ALREADY. Just don’t let me forget Bones. I – I can’t forget him. Oh, god, I’m going to forget him. I can’t – no –“

 _Jim._ Bones didn’t even think before he was sprinting through the open bedroom door, his arms circling Jim’s waist as the stick-figure of a body of his best friend fought to punch and kick the wall with fierce determination.

 _“LET ME GO! I WANNA DIE. GOD, LET ME DIE, PLEASE._ Please, please… _”_ Bones held tight, feeling Jim succumb to his broken heart, his body going limp as he began to sob.

Bones gently sat them both onto the ground, hugging Jim close as he let him cry. He whispered reassuring words into Jim’s ear as he rocked them back and forth with care, holding back his own tears. “It is okay, Jim. It’s okay.”

“Please, please don’t let me forget you,” Jim whimpered, his hands grasping onto Bones’ grip. “I’m terrified.”

“I know. I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

They spent the rest of the evening in silence. In time, Jim fell into an uneven sleep, his breathing catching as his mind threw at him restless nightmares and dreams. Bones eventually got him into bed and tucked under the covers. He stayed by Jim’s side all night, soothing away the unwelcome nightmares, frightened tears, and exhausted sobs that plagued their entire being. The floor made for an uncomfortable bed, but Bones took it in stride. Jim was his focus. That is what mattered.

* * *

The ringing cell phone is an unwelcome distraction in the midst of chaos as Bones unwillingly gets dragged from a restless nap to answer its pitiful, consistent drilling of sound into his pain riddled head. He’s spent the past four days drilling medical students in Emergency Room medicine and even playing doctor a few times himself in two eighteen hour shifts. His energy is at its end and he just wants to _sleep, GOD!_ He’s barely seen Jim since that night five days ago, but he’s been keeping as close of tabs as he can.

Jim’s stayed home the whole time – except for the gentlest of reminders to see Uhura. Other than that, there hadn’t been any problems.

“Ugh, someone better be dying,” Bones mumbled as he answered the phone, the speaker loud and clear as muffled rapid breathing and _shit that doesn’t sound good_ echoes through.

“Help. I-I can’t find… I lost something. I – I think I hurt myself.” The headache disappears, the lack of energy is ignored, and Bones is up from his couch in under a second, his phone scooped up into his hands as he races for his coat and shoes. “There’s blood. Oh, god, I don’t know what I was looking for. Bones, I need you, I’m – I’m scared. I think there is glass, and – I don’t know. Please, hurry.”

His coat and shoes are on before Jim even stops speaking, his plea the knife in his best friend’s heart as he slams out of his home, his personal medical bag white-knuckled gripped in his once-free hand. “I’m coming Jim, I’m on my way. Don’t – don’t move. You’re going to be okay.”

Three minutes later (Bones is pretty sure this is a record for him from his apartment to Jim’s), he’s closing Jim’s front door, surveying the scene with his eyes open and mind clear.

Jim stands in the middle of the kitchen, shaking as he clutches his phone, blood dripping from a gash over his right eye and a nasty red, irregular circle on his left forearm. The burners on the stove are all on, there is a shattered glass on the ground, and Jim isn’t wearing his shirt.

“I – I was looking for – for something,” Jim starts, his teeth chattering. “Mom was gonna come over, but I – she didn’t answer my text. Then I wanted to cook, and – I don’t know what happened. Am I – okay?”

 _He’s cold. He’s forgetful. He’s injured. Priority: get away from the mess, turn off the burners, clean him up. In that order_. Triage becomes a part of Bones’ second nature as his emergency room skills come into play. “You’re okay. Carefully step over the glass, Jim, and I’ll clean you up, and then the mess. It’s okay,” Bones instructed, holding out a hand in friendship.

Jim frowned, but nodded as he maneuvered his way through the glass and onto the carpet, away from the kitchen and the disaster it held.

Bones quickly reached the stove, turned off all the burners, sighed with some relief as he turned back around, finally, with gentleness, guiding Jim into the bedroom and then into the bathroom. Jim sits on the toilet seat, continuing to frown and shake while Bones begins to work on the small bleed.

“Did you hit your head?” Bones asks, dabbing at the area with a wet washcloth.

“I don’t remember. I – I remember touching something hot, getting frightened, and then – I saw red on the floor.”

 _Touched the hot burner by accident, and somehow managed to whack his head in the process. I’m sure I’ll figure it out_. Bones gives the area a good clean and decides it doesn’t need any steri strips. A band-aid would probably be best.

The burn looked painful, but it didn’t give Bones the idea it had been long term exposure. Jim hadn’t been safe around the burners, but had at least noticed when something wasn’t right.

 _He’s unsafe in his own home._ The realization cut Bones to the core. He’d hoped Jim would never fade too far from being able to care for his own being without help, but Bones should have known that hope was false. Jim needed a caretaker. _We need hospice_. The thought alone made Bones want to hurl. _I’m losing him_.

He cleaned Jim up in reasonable time and with quiet reassurance, got Jim dressed for bed and tucked in for the time being.

Once settled, Bones sat next to Jim on the edge of the bed, taking his best friend’s hand in his own. “I’m going to make you some dinner, okay? But first, Jim, I have to ask you something.”

“Okay.” Jim looked tired. It made Bones worry that he wasn’t getting the sleep he needed. _He needs help. A safe haven. His home needs to be that_.

“Do you remember before, when we filled out a lot of papers about what you wanted when you could no longer make your wishes known?”

Jim’s face bunched up into thinking mode, but finally nodded. “Yeah.”

“Jim, I don’t think you’re safe to make your own decisions right now. Would you be okay to allow me, your Power of Attorney, to start making decisions for you?”

Jim shrugged. “Sure. Are – are you mad with me? About tonight?”

Bones squeeze Jim’s hand. “No. No, absolutely not. I just want to make sure you are safe. You’ve been forgetting a lot of things lately. You injured yourself tonight, Jimbo. I want to get you a caretaker, someone who will help oversee some of your household chores and make you comfortable. They’ll cook, clean, and make sure you don’t miss your medications, among many other things. They can really help you out.”

“But why can’t you do that?”

Bones sighed. “I – I don’t have the time for that. But I promise I’ll check up on you every day.” _At the next fucking decline, I’m moving in. Fuck this._

“Okay. Hey, Bones?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“Am I going to get better?”

The question made his throat grow tight. _I wish I could say yes, Jim. I want to, so badly. I want you to get better and live life without forgetting stuff and without three brain tumors and god – all the bad stuff in your life right now. I really wish that could be true._ Instead of speaking, knowing his voice would betray him, Bones just shook his head. Whether Jim understood what that meant, he didn’t say anything.

Bones went through the motions that night: making dinner for both of them, cleaning up the mess of glass and some strewn food that has ended up on the floor, and consoling Jim on the fact his mother hadn’t arrived. It pained Bones to see Jim this way – not remembering that he hadn’t seen his mother in years, and that the last time they had talked, she’d rejected him, even when he’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

He found himself, once again, asleep next to Jim that night. He couldn’t bear to leave him alone at that time, especially when the necessary arrangements to get a twenty four hour caretaker hadn’t been set in motion. Bones knew he would call in the morning. He just wanted this time, alone, with Jim. He needed to accept the reality that Jim was declining at a much faster rate than he’d first assumed, and that the end was _going_ to come.

He just wasn’t willing to do that yet. _Just one more day. I can keep denying this. I think_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the final chapter count is correct. There will be one more full chapter, and then an epilogue. I'm not ready... I feel you, Bones. I'm not ready.


	20. Fade Away Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim receives an unexpected guest, but his memory deceives him. The end could just break Bones. Will it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... *bawls*

January began its fade into February. Jim’s condition continued to decline.

The local hospice admitted Jim two days after his kitchen debacle. Per Dr. McCoy’s requests, Jim’s medications were managed effectively, his activities of daily living were planned around rest periods and personal moments – especially activities like eating, showering, and other personal cares – and he had a personal trained Nurse in the apartment at all times. As Bones could not be there twenty-four seven, he felt this was the best thing for Jim. He knew Jim would lose track of the faces that would be coming in to care for him, but Bones hoped the extra pair of eyes would give them both some comfort. Jim’s meals were prepared for him and his home cleaned from top to bottom once a week.

It was a good thing too – Jim started showing another, far more detrimental symptom: loss of sensation within his legs. After managing to last almost a year with a spinal tumor, Jim was finally symptomatic. Every few days he couldn’t get out of bed due to crippling pain, crippling nausea, or lack of reception and communication with his legs. Those days were the worst as the overseeing nurses noted Jim’s confusion and emotions were far more intensified from the lack of stimulation outside of the bedroom. The headaches also continued to rage, and Jim took to sleeping far more often than usual. Unfortunately, there would be times that when he woke up, he didn’t recognize or remember the face in front of him, even if they had been caring for him for longer than his nap had lasted.

A familiar face graced Jim’s presence during that time: Ariel, the dynamic Starfleet Medical Nurse that also worked double time with the local hospice. Her history with Jim created fond memories as Jim’s failing memory decided to be very picky on who exactly it got to remember and forget. He remembered Ariel like she’d been in his life since he was born. Their conversations were always the funniest, most heartwarming of talks. It didn’t help that when Bones was around, he felt a tug of love for her ability to manage Jim’s ever increasing level of care, along with helping sooth both Jim’s and his fears and tears.

Bones juggled his work around Jim, knowing his time was more valuable at Jim’s side. He works one sixteen hour shift at the Starfleet Medical Emergency Room and teaches two days a week at the local medical school. Whenever he’s not busy with work, he’s at Jim’s apartment, laughing, crying, and helping out. It’s the hardest thing for Bones to watch as Jim’s days turn into pain, past memories, and troubled confusion crippled with fear of forgetting the one he cares too much about: his Bones.

* * *

The first Saturday in February came up on them pretty fast. Bones is settled into the couch as Jim sat on the floor, his face buried in an old photo album. Bones didn’t know if it would exactly be cathartic for Jim to be looking at memories he may or may not remember, but Ariel, in all her infinite wisdom and joy that morning, had found it on the bookshelf and dragged it down. Now she was sitting next to Jim as they both flipped through pages together.

 _When was the last time we even made a photo album_? Bones thought to himself as he thumbed his medical journal. He was in desperate need for new material for his next round of Emergency Room medical students, and he was resorting to the old fashioned paper copies of _Emergency Medicine: Research style_. But the photo album and Jim’s incessant talking was getting to him. He was distracted.

“Bones looks really dumb in this picture. Oh, wait, no, this picture. God, Bones, do you ever smile?” Jim was teasing, and Bones knew that.

He rolled his eyes as he sat up from the couch, stretching. “Sometimes.”

“Oh, look, a picture of a – I’m hungry,” Jim said suddenly, eyes slightly diminished as he set the photo album down. “But I don’t feel good.”

Ariel gently put a hand to the small of Jim’s back, asking him questions about where he didn’t feel right. It took a bit of time, and some frustration on Jim’s part, but a good twenty minutes later the answers were achieved. Jim needed a snack, some pain medications, some nausea medications, and a nap.

There was a knock on the door that stopped all of them in their tracks.

Bones sighed as he headed to answer it. “I’ll be right back. Probably just – someone.” He had no idea. Uhura always texted before she came over and there wasn’t a lot of other people who were in to visiting Jim. On rare occasion Jim got to go out, but it was always with Bones and never to meet anyone specific.

 _Should have fucking figured_ , Bones thought to himself angrily when he saw through the peep hole. _Carol Marcus_.

She stood at the door in a black dress, thick heeled knee-high boots disappearing under the edge of the dress . Her hands were being wrung together rather nervously as she looked away from the door, probably waiting for a nervous laugh and a nervous hello to escape her too-red lips. Her hair had been dyed to a deep red – it didn’t suite her in the least.

He sighed as he unlocked the chain and opened the door enough to block her from seeing in. Jim and Ariel had moved into the kitchen, but Bones was feeling protective. _She has little reason to be here_.

She jumped when the door opened, her hands clenched together. “Oh, oh, hi!” she stammered, clearly out of place with her stance on her exact reason to be at Jim’s doorstep. “Hi, Dr. McCoy. Is Jim home?”

His eyes narrowed in distaste. “Why do you care?”

She frowned. “I-I wanted to see how he was doing. The last time we talked was uh – this summer. He – well, we-“

“I know what happened. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care about whatever regrets you might be having. You two tried to have a relationship, but you couldn’t stand his condition. You two fucked and that was about it. Now, it is fucking February. You waited too long for this shit. Plus, he’s not up for visitors right now.”

She gulped. “Oh – oh. I didn’t know that. I-I should have called. I was going to, but I felt – well, Jim always said-“

“Anything he told you is pointless to hold against him. He’s dying, so make your point before I slam the door.”

She looked about ready to cry. “Oh god. He – he’s _dying_?”

 _She just doesn’t get it_. “Ye-“

“Bones, who is it?” Jim appeared at Bones’ shoulder, eyes peering out into the hallway. “Oh, hi! Are you friend of Bones’?”

Carol’s face morphs into a look of even further distress and shock. She doesn’t speak. Her eyes plead with Bones, their message clearly stating: _what is going on? Why doesn’t he recognize me? Why doesn’t he remember me?!!_

“Jim, I’ve got this covered. Go with Ariel to your bedroom. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Jim nods and reluctantly leaves, his face an image of confusion and _regret_.

“Look-“

“ _He doesn’t remember me_ ,” she starts to bawl. “Oh god, this is awful. I’m sorry – I am so sorry. I have to – I have to go.” She turns and heads for the nearby stairs, her sobs echoing through-out the stairwell.

“Carol-“ Bones curses as she flees. He didn’t even get to explain.

“DR. MCCOY!”

He turns, forgetting all about Carol as he pushes the door back into place and runs for the bedroom. His mind is focused solely on Jim and Jim alone. Ariel’s scream was enough to invoke fear back into his heart _. Jim, Jim!_

He gets into the bedroom to find Ariel kneeling over Jim’s shaking body near the bathroom door. She’d safely gotten him onto the ground, cleared away all objects, and turned Jim onto his side to prevent aspiration as the seizure rendered Jim incapable of controlling his facilities.

It ended seconds later, Jim seeming to crash face first into the carpet as his body slowed and relaxed. Ariel looked up and whispered, “Twenty-two seconds long.”

“Let’s monitor the postictal state. Had he taken any of his medications yet?”

She shook her head. “We were headed to the bathroom. He wanted to brush his teeth. He was animatedly talking and then – I caught him just in time.”

Jim moaned quietly.

“Bones and Ariel are here, Jim. How are you feeling?” Her hand was on his shoulder, gently rubbing in small circles.

“Hurts.”

“I understand, Jim. We’ll give you just a little bit longer and then move you into bed. I’ll get your medications for you at that time.”

“Bones…”

“I’m here, Jim,” Bones was at Jim’s side in an instant. He took one of Jim’s cold hands, squeezing tight. “Do you remember anything.”

Jim shook his head very slowly. “Hurts.”

Bones nodded at Ariel. “Let’s get him back into bed.”

Once Jim was settled and fully awake a few minutes later, Ariel gave him his medications and Bones settled in the bed next to Jim, taking his hand.

“Who… who was at the door?” Jim mumbled, drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Shh, Jim. No one important.”

“Hmmmm….” And then Jim was out, peacefully asleep. Ariel moves about the apartment, cleaning up and monitoring Jim’s status as Bones holds tight to Jim’s hand, eyes wide open with regret as Jim’s chest rises and falls in rhythm. It wasn’t going to last – it never lasts.

The incident was the next mark in the downhill slide. The seizure could have been from anything – but even Bones knew that the brain tumors were fucking Jim up one moment at a time. It was breaking every resolve Bones had. It was too damn close to the heart, and too damn personal. _Jim, oh god – Jim_.

* * *

“Dr. McCoy?”

Bones was sitting in the physician only section of the Emergency Room two weeks later, his brain turning to mush as he continues writing up a history and physical on his latest admitted patient. It’s been thirteen hours of sixteen and he is wearing thin. He still has his two teaching days to accomplish that week and a dinner date with Jim the next evening.

His mind had been distracted. Jim believed his mother was coming for a visit. It was a letdown to see Jim look so – hopeful with falsehoods. The phone number Jim had was out of service, but he didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand much. His memories were shot to nothing. The only thing he remembered was Bones. It was the only face he remembered. Jim had six different nurses, and even his familiar Ariel was lost to him. All the same to Jim, Carol Marcus hadn’t come around again, hadn’t called, nothing. He hadn’t brought that day up again – a mercy – and Carol was lost to him. Forever gone.

“Dr. McCoy!”

He jolted at the call, and sat up straight. “Yes, what?”

“You have a phone call.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. No one called him at work. “Who?”

“Starfleet Hospice. Serena, I believe the name was.”

_JIM!_

He saved his work in hasty fashion and took the phone from the individual’s hand. He waved her away as he started to talk. “Yes, hello, this is Dr. McCoy.”

“Dr. McCoy, Jim is asking for you, repeatedly. One of his pupils has blown and he looks lost. His confusion is extreme. He’s awake periodically, and all he does is take his medications when offered with some water, and then cries for you. He grimaces often in his sleep. Dr. Montgomery Scott was just by. He’s assessed that Jim is actively dying.”

_The end is near._

“We believe it imperative that you come as soon as possible.”

Bones nodded. “Thank you. I’ll – I’ll get there as fast as possible.”

The phone call ended and the woman was still standing nearby. “Doctor?”

He set the phone down and felt everything hit him at once. Choking fear and crippling hate and awful regret mixed with unbelievable pain and sorrow. _I’m not ready_.

“Dr. McCoy?!”

He stood up and took in a deep breath. “Allison, how many patients do we have in the ER right now? Has Dr. M’Benga arrived for his shift yet?”

She made quick work of his requests. “Five patients, including the one you are about to send upstairs, Dr. McCoy. And Dr. M’Benga arrived thirty minutes ago. His shift starts at-“

“I understand. I have a family emergency. I need to – to leave.”

She nodded. “I will update the staff. Please notify Dr. M’Benga.”

He was gone before she could even finish speaking. He passed the few occupied ER bays and found Dr. M’Benga in his office, reading paperwork.

“M’Benga.”

“McCoy?”

“We have five patients. One is being sent upstairs. I finished with everything on him. Can you handle it all until Peterson comes in at midnight?”

M’Benga nodded slowly. “Is everything all right, Dr. McCoy?”

“Family emergency. I’ll – call tomorrow. I – I need leave.”

“Absolutely, Dr. McCoy.” He stood up, putting a hand on McCoy’s shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

The choking feeling was back. He wanted to sob. He shook his head, holding back words. He was afraid he would break before he even got to Jim’s apartment.

“All right. I have the work covered. Go.”

With the computers updated, Bones grabbed his things and was gone. He needed to get to Jim, _now_.

Twenty three minutes later he was letting himself into the dark apartment. He crept to the bedroom, Jim’s _terrified_ voice echoing through the closed door.

“Help, please. I-I don’t know – “

“Jim, you’re all right. It’s Serena. I’m your nurse. You’re safe. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“No, no, please – I need Bones – Bones – _help_.”

The last weakened plea broke Bones. He fell against the wall with a deadening thud, tears in his eyes. _Jim. Oh god. No, no._ He let out a sob, his breath catching in his chest. He felt like he was having a heart attack.

He tried to breathe, to get himself to move, but he couldn’t. _Jim needs me. Jim needs me. I need to be in there. Calm him down. Be there for him. BE PRESENT, LEONARD!_

With strength of the unknown, he managed to get to a standing position that wasn’t being crushed against the wall and he balled his hands into fists. He had to be strong; had to be there for Jim. It was the only way. He wiped fiercely at his tears and gripped the doorknob. _I’m here Jim, I’m here_.

He quietly opened it, the small bedside light reflecting on his face as he saw Jim huddled in the middle of the bed, all the blankets and covers on the ground, his face white and a thick sheen of sweat mixed with tears coursing down his cheeks. He was staring straight ahead, his right eye blown wide. _Intracranial pressure and or the tumors growing substantially_. The clinical side of things was not a pretty picture.

Serena stood from the chair beside the bed, eyes filled with relief. “Doctor.”

He rushed to Jim’s side. “I’m here, Jim. Bones is here.”

“B-B-bones,” Jim whispered, eyes unseeing the face directly in front of him. _Blind. He’s scared because he can’t see. This wasn’t supposed to – when did this – it’s okay Jim, I’m here._

“Yes, Jim. Bones is here,” he said with a gentleness he didn’t know he had.

Jim was shivering, but he looked as if he was burning up. _Fever. Bad_.

“We started giving him liquid dilaudid. He’s resistant to anything else. He hasn’t eaten anything in three days.”

“Bones, are you still there?”

“Of course, Jim. I’m here.”

“I’m scared.”

 _I know, Jim. I know_.

“I’m here,” Bones whispered, getting up off his knees to shift onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Jim’s wasted form. He held tight, whispering into Jim’s ear as he felt Jim relax. As they both fell into a troubled sleep, Bones felt the tears begin again. It was only a matter of time before Jim breathed his last. Bones would be there – no matter what.

For now, however, he would hold his best friend close and reassure that he was grounded, was loved, and wasn’t forgotten.

Above all else, _never forgotten._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to go...


	21. Epilogue: New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a different world out there now.

“Patricia, can you get an IV started in room 8? Pretty sure the pain is a kidney stone. I’m ordering a liter of fluids and two milligrams of morphine.”

It is all work and no play for Doctor Leonard McCoy. He had agreed to a twenty four hour stint in the emergency room that day and was expected to be up and running at eight am the next morning for a cardio-pulmonary resuscitation training session with five of his medical students. Advanced Cardiac Life Support was also coming up, and he knew he needed to get the class materials rolling.

His life was busy.

But that busy came with a cost. It wasn’t so much a distraction as working himself toward a better him.

Every Wednesday at seven thirty pm on the dot, Dr. McCoy stripped himself of his formalities, his title, and his worries, and had enlightening, detailed conversations – with a therapist.

Losing Jim had broken him in almost every sense. He’d pulled medical leave and holed up in his apartment for sixteen days straight. He didn’t eat, and he took in just the bare minimum of fluids. Enough to keep him peeing and crying, usually simultaneously. There had been no contact from the outside world – he had turned off his phone and gripped the comfort on his bed with feeble hands, bawling every chance he could get when something reminded him of what he had just lost. The stove, that picture, that shirt, a word or a simple memory; the list went on. Surprisingly, even the _damn_ bathroom set Bones off. Those sixteen days had been pure _hell_. And he had only himself to blame.

His rescuer had been his own mother. She had, quite literally, knocked down his door and demanded he get back to work saving other people’s lives. Oh, he would continue to lose people, Jim included in that count of loss, but Doctor Leonard McCoy needed to do what he did best, especially in Jim’s memory: save lives and make moments that would last with him forever. Wiser words had never hit Bones in the heart more than those had.

However, he’d lost weight and his emotional stability had become sketchy. The medical school still wanted him to teach, and Starfleet Medical still wanted his brilliant mind in their Emergency Department. So both, jointly, made a way for him to come back to work. While he had left on medical leave, coming back was not an easy process. A therapist was ordered and a nutritionist (which had been a joke. In the end, Bones had gained his weight back without her help. He was a doctor, damn it, he understood what he had done to himself and what he needed to do to get back to who he had been before – before _Jim_ ’s death). He worked tirelessly to get himself back into shape and a fitting member of society.

He put into motion Jim’s desired funeral plans and figured the funeral itself would be cathartic enough for him. That and going through every single one of Jim’s possessions. That week had been the worst. His mother was beside him each step of the way, helping sort through the mess. Jim’s Will had stated everything went to Bones, even if he was sure he didn’t need the microwave, and definitely not Jim’s stacks and stacks of Literature books. In the end, most of Jim’s earthly possessions made its way to the University or goodwill. A few scattering of items entered Mrs. McCoy’s possession, and Bones held onto extremely prized memories: photo albums, pictures, a few shirts, and one of Jim’s favorite books.

His mother stuck around. She practically _moved in_. She supported Bones and held him close when he was sure he wasn’t going to be able to stand another minute on this earth without Jim. Everything had been lost when his only friend, _his best friend_ , succumbed to cancer. Even to this day, nightmares occasionally plagued his sleep and kept him from moving forward in life.

He had been diagnosed with depression. Something that had never even come to cross Dr. McCoy’s mind in all the time he had spent supporting and caring for Jim until the very end. The therapist helped give him a good outlet that wasn’t associated with work, his mother, any of his social circle, and nothing in connection to the epic loss of Jim Kirk.

And last, but not least, Dr. McCoy had found someone to share a connection with. Her name? Ariel.

“Hmmm, only two milligrams of morphine, Doctor? Being skimpy on the pain medication?”

The voice teased McCoy as he drifted between triage bay 4 and Room 8, his attention focused on the chest pain in one room and the right sided flank pain in the other room. He smiled as he saw Ariel leaning against a nearby door jam, her smile just as bright as the sun. “Well, a rating of four out of ten really means I shouldn’t be giving her any, but apparently she never rates anything over a five, so… I think her scale might be zero out of five, even when asked how much it hurts from zero to ten. She’s also a-“

“Frequent flier, I know. But not for the pain medication.”

He shrugged, setting down the paper chart he’d been dedicated to just a few seconds before. “Nope. More the-“

“Nurses,” Ariel whispered, advancing on him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She pulled him close and kissed him. “You have some fine nurses, Dr. McCoy.”

“Hmm, I’d say the same about you.”

She laughed. “Good thing I hooked up with the doctor, and not the nurse.”

He laughed himself and pulled out of her embrace. “I have patients to see, young lady.”

“How much longer?”

He glanced at his watch. “Sixty three minutes if Dr. M’Benga shows up on time. He usually shows up early, so I’d say probably another forty five. I just have another person to write up orders for. Where can I find you?”

“I’ll be in the break room. I love you,” she said, waving good-bye with her left hand. Her ring finger glistened with his engagement ring shown to the whole world gleefully.

 _Might have made the right choice_ , Bones thought to himself. _And it’s only been three days_.

Ariel had been there when Jim had breathed his last. That connection had sealed their relationship rather perfectly. Now, six and a half months after Jim’s agonizing end on the twenty third of February, Bones had already sealed the deal and Ariel had joyfully accepted his hand in marriage. No date had been set as Bones still navigated the world of dark shadows and nightmares and depression while also working full time and kept himself out of trouble.

He turned back to this work, ready to finish off his extremely long shift with a revived energy. He had a date that night with his lovely fiancée and a mother to finally kick out of his house. She’d been around for far too long – he was _going to go crazy!!_ Especially if she stuck around.

Bones figured he would be okay. There were days when all he wanted was Jim’s smile. There were days when all he needed was Jim’s voice to tell him everything would be okay. He felt almost lost at times without Jim next to him. For as much as they had been through, Bones still felt almost unbelieving that Jim had died. But he’d been there when it had happened, and he’s pulled through. Jim had been buried and laid to rest – a fitting remembrance of the man he knew and loved.

 _Best friends forever_.

So he went back to work and kept at it. He’d managed six and a half months living without Jim. He could keep going. Never forget, but keep going.

He’d be okay. He would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four months in the making. Four months of a lot of emotions. I think this was the fanfic that gave me the worst heart ache ever, and I've written a few cancer stories and a million death stories - and none of them really got this worked up, this agonized over, this _troubled_. It probably didn't help that in real life, I've had to experience some hard deaths, especially at work. God's just preparing me, helping me to experience the now, to be ready for what He wants of me when I finally achieve His goal, my dream: pediatric oncology.
> 
> It wasn't a perfect AU, but I mostly just let it write itself. It was both Bones' and Jim's story. Thank you for the faithful few who stuck around until the end, and those who commented. They were much appreciated :) 
> 
> So I close out this story with one last thought: cancer sucks. 
> 
> I am also glad I finished. It started out as a simple one-shot because SOMEONE had to mention COFFEE, and then it morphed into a ridiculously sad 21 chapter fanfic with over 50000 words. Crazy. Typical.
> 
> With love, Danielle, RN.


End file.
